


Means, Motive, and Opportunity

by stanground



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, Mentions of Crenny, Mentions of Stendy - Freeform, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-03-31 05:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13968819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanground/pseuds/stanground
Summary: Stan is the lead detective with the South Park Police Department, working alongside his best friend, the city's top prosecutor, Kyle Broflovski. When one of their childhood friends is kidnapped and held for ransom, the two have twelve hours to do whatever it takes to get him back.Nothing could have prepared them for the aftermath; no one in South Park would ever be the same.(Formerly: When the Chips are Down)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The depiction of the jobs Stan and Kyle have are drastically different from the functions of those positions in real life. This is purely a work of fiction on every level.
> 
> Another note: Updates on this story are probably going to take a little longer than my other works since I'm going to try and stay consistent with quality and length for every chapter.

South Park has always been a fucking hell hole. From the very beginning, the little mountain town was built on the ever-sturdy foundation of flawed logic, racism, and less than savory characters all candy coated in what its inhabitants try to pass off as “small town charm”. The town was an embarrassing stain on the country for far too long, and it wouldn’t be too far fetched to say that the townsfolk were responsible for birthing and perpetuating some of the most horrible and offensive stereotypes known to mankind. Since the new millennium, however, things were finally starting to change; problematic government officials were voted out of office, the town got its very own Whole Foods, and best of all, local law enforcement was completely overhauled. This, of course, would not have been possible if it had not been for a group of crazy kids in costume on a mission to become filthy, stinkin’ rich. 

As children, the members of South Park’s very own superhero franchise, the Freedom Pals, were committed to saving their little mountain town and fighting for justice, especially if that meant making serious bank off of their heroic efforts. As the years went on, one by one they all came to the disheartening realization that Netflix was probably not going to call them back after all, and when they couldn’t come to an agreement on a director worthy enough to bring to life their epic tale, it was time to hang up the capes. It was on that day, however, that the remaining members of the Freedom Pals team made a pact that they would one day save their city for real, and while most of them fell through, there were a few brave heroes devoted to keeping their word.

Stan Marsh was once known as the mighty gadgeteer, Toolshed: delivering justice by power tool. He later grew up to become the lead detective for the South Park Police Department, a position in which he took great pride. Had it not been for the fact that most of his high school class ended up staying in their little mountain town, there is a very real possibility that Stan would have never even made it through his first week in the academy. He could (and would) preach all he wanted that his sole motivation was ensuring the safety of those that he cared so deeply for, but it was no secret that rubbing commendations and local prestige in the faces of those who doubted him was the true prize. He would fill their glasses so they may raise them to him; regardless of intention, the people had their wine, their security, and that was what mattered. 

Of course, he’d be utterly useless had it not been for his ever-faithful partner in crime-fighting, the legendary Human Kite: Kyle Broflovski. Kyle followed in his father’s footsteps and decided to take the legal route where he finally found use for his natural talent for composing eloquent and compelling speeches. After finishing law school, Kyle secured himself an internship with the district attorney’s office in Park County where he climbed the ranks in the blink of an eye and before he knew it, he was setting up his office as South Park’s top prosecutor. When it came to his career, Kyle Broflovski was a force to be reckoned with. Together, Stan and Kyle were unstoppable, the dynamic duo haunted the nightmares of any criminal who dared set foot in their city. 

Mornings started at the Village Inn, a humble little diner known for their late hours and all-you-can-drink stale coffee. Stan would pick up Kyle every day in his patrol car no later than 6:00 A.M., and at that ungodly hour, even the stalest coffee tasted like the nectar of the gods. On many occasions, Kyle had asked Stan why they did this to themselves, they were both absolutely miserable and absolutely not morning people, to which Stan would reply with endless accusations of the ritual being Kyle’s idea. After years of following the daily routine, neither of them could remember who really instigated their first morning whine-and-dine session. While most sane and ordinary people would just drop it and move on with their lives, Stan and Kyle refused to let it go. They had still not adjusted to waking up before the sun rose, and at some point they just came to terms with the reality that they probably never would, and yet, every day at 6:00 AM, the two would always find themselves back again in their usual booth. 

“Today’s the preliminary hearing for the Hughes case.” Kyle mentioned as he glanced over the menu. Stan never understood why he insisted on reading through it when they both knew that he would end up choosing the oatmeal just as he did every other day. 

“So you decided not to drop the charges after all?” Stan was amused, his lips curled into a cocky smirk. For the past two months they had been bitterly arguing about whether they had enough to get George Hughes convicted for multiple counts of burglary; Stan couldn’t think of a better way to start his day then to have his friend admit he was giving in. 

“For now, but we’ll see if the jury actually lets us go to trial.” Kyle scoffed.

“How could they not? I gave you everything you need to work your magic up there, it’ll be fine.” He took a long swig from his mug and sighed in satisfied relief. 

“You’re joking, right?” Kyle asked incredulously. “What you gave me was proof that burglaries were committed but there’s nothing physical tying him specifically to any of it. I’m honestly surprised you managed to book him at all without his attorney throwing a fit.” 

“Oh come on, I went by the book, everything was completely legal so there’s no way in hell anything’s gonna get thrown out.” Stan offered his most charming smile. “Not to mention, you’re a wizard up there when you’ve got circumstantial evidence, you’re the best there is. Hell, you could convince any jury that the sky is green, this will be a breeze.” 

Kyle bit the inside of his cheek to conceal the grin tugging at his lips. “I hope you know that without me, you’d be dead in the water.” 

“And that, Mr. Broflovski, is why I’m buying you breakfast.” He chuckled. 

Stan would always pay for Kyle’s meal. It was no secret that the big shot prosecutor’s salary was significantly larger than that of a local detective, but he had his reasons for letting Stan have this one. The waitress showed up and took their orders, yet another unnecessary formality seeing as the two ordered the same meals from that very same waitress literally every single morning. 

“So have you heard from Wendy lately?” Kyle tried his best to pass off the question as casually as possible, but Stan still froze in place, his cup lifted halfway to his mouth. 

“Dude.” His tone made it very clear that the question was off-limits. 

“I’m sorry, I thought-” 

“Why would you bring her up? What makes you think that’s okay?” Stan was getting defensive, Kyle was on thin ice now. 

“Stan, I’m sorry. Just, forget I said anything, I thought it had been long enough.” He may as well have gotten on his hands and knees to beg for forgiveness. Stan shook his head and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“No, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, it’s just that… Let’s not talk about Wendy, alright? That’s over and done and this,” he grabbed the edge of the table as he looked back up at Kyle, his eyes softening. “This is holy land and I don’t want to taint it with bullshit like that.” Kyle felt like he could breathe again.

Stan Marsh and Wendy Testaburger had a long, convoluted history filled with memories that belonged in the script of a failing soap opera. After getting back together for the up-teenth time in their freshman year of high school, the two stayed strong and steady all the way through college and Stan’s eventual graduation from the police academy. They seemed happy, and for Stan, everything he was working for had finally been coming to fruition. The morning of the assembly, Wendy told Stan that there was a tentative possibility that they were expecting, and she had a doctor’s appointment later that week to confirm. He took it as some kind of sign from God and within 3 days, the ring was purchased and he found himself taking a knee before her. 

She left him devastated. Stan kept quiet about the details of the events that followed the declined proposal, stating only that they had their plans didn’t match up. Wendy was quick to move out of South Park after that, and no one in town heard from her since. He convinced himself that the radio silence must have meant that the potential pregnancy was just a false alarm, and anything else was simply impossible. That was that. 

“I’m thinking of getting a pet.” Kyle mentioned offhandedly in an attempt to redirect the conversation after a few too many seconds of tension-filled awkward silence.

“A pet? Why?” 

“I don’t know, it would be nice to have some company, I guess. I have a two bedroom house all to myself and a decent yard, I think a pet would be really happy living with me.” Kyle shrugged as the waitress came back to deliver their meals: one bowl of oatmeal and a party platter of assorted breakfast options. Stan’s appetite had grown unreasonably large over the years, and the capacity of his stomach never ceased to amaze. 

“What kind of pet would you want to get? I can take you to the shelter when I go volunteer this weekend if you want to see your options.” He offered as he started digging into his meal with the ferocity of a starving hyena, starting with the bacon. 

“I want to get a pig.” 

Stan stopped in his tracks and began slowly lowering the extra crispy strip back to his plate.

“A pig?” He asked, furrowing his brow. 

“A pig. I’ve been looking into it and they’re not just smart, Stan, they’re super social too!” Kyle proclaimed excitedly, Stan gave his bacon an apologetic frown.

“Kyle, no offense, but you’re a total neat freak, how the hell are you going to deal with a pig?” 

“Well, despite their reputation, pigs are actually surprisingly hygienic animals. They refuse to excrete anywhere near their living and eating spaces if they have a choice and the only reason they’re often covered in mud is because it’s their only way to cool down since  _ they _ don’t sweat.” He shot Stan an accusatory look as he started on his oatmeal. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He mumbled, his mouth stuffed with half a pancake. When Kyle didn’t reply, Stan rolled his eyes and swallowed his bite before sitting up straight. “Hey, I work in a very stressful environment and I’m required to exert a considerable amount of physical activity, sweating is a very natural, normal response!” 

“I never said it wasn’t.” He mentioned with a shrug, refusing to look Stan in the eye. He found the reaction he was getting to be endlessly entertaining.   
“I wear deodorant and shower every day, I am very hygienic, for your information!” He huffed, crossing his arms in frustration. 

“You absolutely are, Stan.” He looked up. “Are you finished?” 

“God dammit, Kyle.” Stan muttered under his breath as he went back to eating his bacon. “Sorry, I’m not a pig! Sorry I’m just some unhygienic sweaty human.”

“Stan…” Kyle addressed him delicately. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but… I’m not interested in adopting you as a pet.” He could barely restrain himself from laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Stan paused, and the realization that he was acting certifiably insane hit him like a runaway freight train. “Dude! Why did you have to do that? How do I fall for that every time?”

“Because you’re a mere mortal.” He snorted. “And I paid way too much for my formal education in behavioral manipulation to not get my money’s worth.” 

The pair finished their meals in comfortable silence. 

* * *

If Stan had known what kind of nightmarish hellscape was awaiting him at the police station, he would have ordered at least a gallon of stale Village Inn coffee to go.  

“Detective! Oh god, you have to help me!” An uncharacteristically hysterical Mrs. Tweak was waiting outside the building for him. Stan had many dealings with the Tweak family going back all the way to the third grade, however, his more recent involvement with the family was not exactly pleasant. A year before, he was heading up an investigation with the help of Eric Cartman that ended up exposing one of Colorado’s most notorious drug ring, included in the mass arrest was none other than Mr. Tweak, owner of South Park’s very own Tweak Coffee. Only by some miraculous stroke of luck, the shop managed to survive the sting thanks to Tweek who took over the business in his father’s place. 

“Ma’am, please, calm down.” He said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Come to my office, we’ll talk there, okay?” 

She nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes as she turned and walked over to the office Stan was ushering her into. 

“Now, what seems to be the problem, Mrs. Tweak?” He asked with the utmost professional courtesy. 

“It’s my son. H-he didn’t show up to work this morning and I-I think something’s happened!” She sobbed. 

“That’s all?” Stan raised a brow, the issue she was describing was hardly worthy of concern, let alone warrant a reaction that seemed to shake the typically stoic woman to her very core. “With all due respect, ma’am, that doesn’t sound exactly...urgent.” He explained as gently as he could.

“You don’t understand, he never, ever missed a day. Since Craig left, that shop was all he had! Even if he did, he would have called someone, he wouldn’t have been able to handle just playing hooky!” She had a point there. Since they were children, Tweek had a reputation for being neurotic and especially sensitive to any kind of pressure-filled situation. Leaving his livelihood out of nowhere without making prior arrangements with anyone else would have driven him absolutely bonkers. 

“Have you already tried contacting him or visiting his residence?” Stan asked, taking out the missing person’s form. It was atypical that they would begin filing anything before the 48-hour mark, but if it helped to settle her nerves at all, it would be worth it. 

“You’re not my first resort, Detective.” Mrs. Tweak grimaced. 

“I apologize for insulting you, ma’am, we’re required to ask these questions, alright. Here, fill these forms out and we can get a missing persons case started.” He assured her, pressing his lips together sympathetically as passing the papers across the desk and offering her a pen.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m telling you, Detective Marsh.” She pushed the forms back to him. “This isn’t a normal missing person issue, my son has been kidnapped.” 

“I know that you’re worried, but you have to understand-” 

“I’m not making assumptions here, Detective. Listen.” Mrs. Tweak took her phone from her purse and played a voicemail. 

_ “I have taken your son. He has been buried alive and he has exactly twelve hours to live. In exchange for a sum of $350,000.00, I will provide the exact coordinates of his location so you may attempt to rescue him before that time. Do not contact the police, and do not try to find me. I am watching you. I am watching everything. Deliver the money to Stark’s pond at the base of the pier. You will not find me there in person, if you do not come alone, the deal will be off. Should you involve the police, the price for your son’s life will increase by $50,000.00 every hour, again, I am watching, I will know. This will be my last communication.”  _

The voice was digitally distorted and it sounded like there was four different people talking at once, even if they were to try to decrypt the vocal manipulation, the results would be inconclusive at best. 

“How long ago did you receive this message?” Stan asked, a new sense of urgency in his eyes. 

“Five hours ago. Please, Detective, you need to help me find my baby.” She began sobbing all over again. Stan immediately picked up the phone and dialed the number as quickly as he could. 

“This is Stan Marsh, South Park P.D. I need the Kyle Broflovski and a kidnapping crisis team at the South Park Police Department NOW.” 

* * *

**_Seven hours remaining_ **

 

It was absolutely not Kyle’s job to assist Stan in investigations, both of them were fully aware of this fact. However, the South Park Police Department didn’t have a profiler, and Kyle’s masters degree in criminology was the closest they could ever hope to afford. Within an hour, the cavalry arrived and took over the department. Victim services was with Mrs. Tweak, trying to get all and any details and the conference room had been taken over by the ransom unit to discuss a plan of attack. Stan was waiting in the parking lot for Kyle’s cab to arrive.

“Dude, what the hell?” Kyle asked as he stepped out of the yellow taxi. Any semblance of annoyance left him as he noticed the panicked look in Stan’s eyes. 

“Listen, I’m sorry to pull you out of court, it’s just, I was-” Stan started frantically, unsure of where and how to begin to explain. 

“Hey, don’t worry. What’s going on, Stan?” He asked, putting a hand on the detective’s shoulder in an attempt to provide even a miniscule amount of comfort. 

“I’m in over my head, Kyle.” He admitted, his brows knitted together in frustration. “I gotta do everything by the book here and I don’t even know where to start.” Kyle nodded, beckoning him to continue. 

“Tweek’s been kidnapped. Some sicko buried him alive and is holding him for ransom, his mom got the call this morning and I’ve got no leads.” Stan went on. “He’s going to run out of air before sun down and die unless I can catch the bastard or his mom somehow comes up with half a million dollars at least.” 

Kyle pursed his lips, deep in thought as he tried to properly assess the situation. “Alright, let’s go inside and I’ll go over the details. Show me everything you have so far.” 

Stan ushered him inside and the two went up to his office. Kyle wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or concerned when he saw that the place was pristine and freshly organized. Stan and Kyle were always polar opposites when it came to the tidiness of their habitations, while Kyle was a self-affirmed neat freak, Stan preferred to live his life in a perpetual state of methodical madness and piles; it drove Kyle up the wall. To see that Stan had rid his office of any mess or piles could only mean that he was handling the stress even worse than he was letting on. The only thing on his desk was the cell phone, and once Kyle sat down, Stan hit a button and the haunting voicemail played on speaker, sending shivers down both their spines. 

“It...It sounds like a man.” Kyle mentioned, holding the phone closer to his ear as it played through again. 

“It’s impossible to tell though, whoever this is recorded it multiple times, ran each one through a different vocal filter, manipulated the pitch, autotuned it, who knows what else. The techs say it’s a dead end lead because it’s impossible to unscramble.” Stan was pacing by his desk. 

“Okay, well then let’s look at Tweek. Who was he with before this? Who was the last person to see him?”

“If I knew that then I’d be out talking to them right now.” Stan punched the wall with a frustrated grunt. 

“Stan.” Kyle stood up and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m trying to help, but you need to calm down and focus.” 

Stan slowly turned to him and nodded, taking a deep breath as he unclenched his fists. “Sorry, this… It’s just a lot.” He sat down at his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know. I know…” Kyle went back to his respective chair across from him. “Let’s call Butters, doesn’t he work with Tweek over at the coffee shop?” 

“Yeah, but he wasn’t working last night.” He sighed, his voice heavy with gloom.

“Okay, but isn’t it typical workplace conduct to discuss your off-duty plans with your coworkers?” Kyle asked. “Maybe Tweek told him about any plans he might have had or something.” 

“Butters didn’t mention anything on the phone-” Stan paused and the realization hit him, Butters was probably just as freaked out and didn’t bother mentioning anything that he wasn’t explicitly asked about. “Oh my god, I’m an idiot.” 

“Call him back.” Stan was already dialing. 

* * *

Butters let them know that Tweek had mentioned a dinner at Buca di Faggoncini, but he never disclosed a specific date, time or reason, but in the crisis at hand, it was the best lead they had. Without a second thought, Stan and Kyle hopped into the patrol car and sped over to the local italian restaurant with sirens blaring and lights flashing.

“Do you think he had a date?” Kyle asked, holding on to the grab handle above the window with a white-knuckle vice grip. 

“No, his mom said the store was his number one priority since Craig left and moved to Denver. Apparently, he was having some trouble moving on after the breakup.” Stan explained as they pulled up to the curb. 

“I can’t believe this place is still in business.” Kyle muttered as he stepped out of the car, fighting the urge to vomit on the sidewalk after the wild rollercoaster that was Stan’s frantic driving. 

“Well the mafia can afford to keep just about any business afloat. Not to mention, this is the only reputable date destination in town.” He shrugged as he walked up and opened the door for Kyle. 

Once inside, they were lucky enough to meet the hostess who was also working the closing shift the night before. In their mad dash to the restaurant, neither had thought to bring a picture of Tweek when questioning potential witnesses. Luckily, Kyle’s Facebook addiction saved the day and he was able to pull up a picture there for reference. 

“Oh yeah! He was here last night. Did he get busted for crack or something? That guy had to have been on something, he was all twitchy and paranoid, it was really weird.” She told them in a hushed tone. 

“Yeah, that’s Tweek for you.” Stan sighed, jotting down a potential timeline on his pocket sized notepad. “Did he have company or was he dining alone?” 

“Ugh, don’t get me started.” She groaned, annoyance heavy in her tone. “He came in and met that disgusting yelp food critic guy, you know the fat one that thinks he owns the world?”

Stan and Kyle both looked at each other, both very much aware of the exact fatass she was referring to. Stan nodded to Kyle and took out his phone to call the station, Kyle thanked the hostess and followed him out a moment later. 

“Have someone go find Eric Cartman and bring him in for questioning. Yeah. Thanks.” He hung up and turned to Kyle who was standing behind him. 

“What do you think Cartman could possibly want from Tweek?” Kyle asked, utterly perplexed by the newest revelation. 

“I have no idea, dude-” Stan looked over Kyle’s shoulder and furrowed his brow at the sight of an all-too-familiar blue clad figure walking down the street. “Son of a bitch.” He muttered to himself. Kyle turned around and immediately recognized the yellow puffball atop a signature chullo hat. 

“Hey Craig!” Kyle shouted. The figure turned around and as soon as he saw them, he bolted. 

The chase that ensued was something worthy of Animal Planet, Stan Marsh starring as the mighty lion hunting down the lean gazelle that was Craig Tucker. It took no time at all for Stan to pounce and tackle him to the ground; Craig never stood a chance. Before Kyle could even jog over to them, Craig was in cuffs and Stan was walking back to the patrol car giving him Miranda. 

 

* * *

 

**_Six hours remaining_ **

 

Back at the station, Mrs. Tweak was absolutely inconsolable. According to the crisis team, she was unaware that one of the standard law enforcement policies when it came to kidnapping or hostage situations was that they never pay the ransom. Unfortunately, however, negotiations were not an option either, so in that moment, they were at an impasse. The team briefed Stan on the situation and the information they discovered, and in that was a crucial piece of the puzzle, and in that moment, all signs pointed to their lucky find waiting in the interrogation room for questioning. 

“Just a tip, running from an officer is never a good plan.” Stan said as he walked into the interrogation room with a blue file in hand. Craig merely looked up at him, his expression blank and unimpressed.

“After all the crazy shit you’ve gotten me into over the years, do you really expect me to have any other reaction?” Craig had never grown out of his perpetually monotone voice, it only grew deeper with age. 

“Well now you’re just being an asshole.” Stan scoffed as he sat down in the chair across from the metal table Craig was currently cuffed to. 

“Why am I here, Marsh?” Craig asked, rattling his cuffs. 

“I could ask you the very same thing.” Stan mused, opening up the file. The picture of Tweek paperclipped to the folder seemed to catch his attention. 

“I live here. Hey, is Tweek trying to say-” 

“Not for the last five months you haven’t.” Stan interrupted and turned the picture toward Craig. “Our records show you moved to Denver after a pretty nasty breakup with your boyfriend, Tweek.” 

“Ex-boyfriend. Yeah, I went to Denver for a bit, is that a crime now?” Craig quirked a brow, trying to read the situation to no avail. 

“Sorry, my mistake. Denver’s a nice place though, why would you want to come back to little ol’ South Park? Were you planning to reconcile with Tweek?” 

“What? No. Marsh, did you bring me here just to grill me about my love life? What is this?” Craig was getting nervous, Stan could practically smell it on him.

“I’ll ask the questions here, thanks. We found that you broke your lease to move back to South Park just a month before it was up. Now I can only imagine how much that must have cost you, why would you pay that much to come back to your hometown where your only real connection is the boyfriend that you dumped and a few so-called assholes that you supposedly hate? It doesn’t look good for you, Mr. Tucker.” Stan clicked his tongue and presented a copy of the broken lease Craig’s former landlord supplied to them. 

“God dammit, will you just cut the crap already, Stan?!” Craig snapped. “Why did you bring me here, Marsh? What’s all this about?” 

Stan was quiet for a moment, trying to read Craig’s expression. 

“We have reason to believe you’re involved in the kidnapping of your ex-boyfriend.” Stan’s voice was solemn as he broke the news.

“Are you serious?” Craig uttered in disbelief. 

“His mother got the ransom call this morning. Tweek’s kidnappers are demanding a payout of nearly half a million dollars. Do you know anything about that?” He asked, shuffling the papers in front of him. 

“What, are you crazy?! No! Why would I possibly want to kidnap Tweek?!” Craig losing his composure was a rare sight, and Stan couldn’t deny it made him uncomfortable. 

“I can think of a few reasons, but let’s just start with an easy one: money. Half a million dollars, you could do an awful lot with that kind of money, couldn’t you Craig?” 

“Anyone could do a lot with a half a million dollars, like start a Peruvian flute band.” 

“Dude, you’re still fucking holding onto that shit?!” 

“Are you really going to make me explain why?” 

“Let’s just get back to the point. Why did you come back to South Park?” Stan asked. 

“I didn’t kidnap Tweek-” 

“Just answer the question, Craig.”

Craig went quiet for a moment before sighing. “I came back for Kenny.” 

“Kenny? Our Kenny? Kenny McCormick?” That was a curveball Stan absolutely did not see coming. 

“Yes, that Kenny. Tweek and I were on a little break in high school once and Kenny and I, we…” He trailed off, refusing to meet Stan’s eyes.

“So you left Tweek for Kenny? Then you decided to bury him alive and get the ransom money so you could run off together or some shit?” Stan pressed.

“I didn’t leave Tweek, god fucking dammit!” Craig shouted. “He’s the one that told me to get out, so I did. Kenny didn’t have anything to do with it, we only got back in touch a few weeks ago and before that, we hadn’t spoken since high school.”

“And why did he tell you to leave?” Craig let out an insincere half-chuckle in response, Stan didn’t take too kindly to that at all. He grabbed Craig by the collar and pulled him up so their noses were near close to touching, a snarl on his lips. 

“Answer the fucking question, Craig. I’m on a bit of a time crunch so my patience is running really fucking low right about now.” Stan was practically growling at that point.

“I proposed. I asked him to marry me, but it was too much pressure for him so he said no and told me to get out.” Craig spat. “But I’m sure you know a lot about rejected proposals, don’t you, Stan?”

Stan was seeing red, he was ready to beat Craig to a bloody pulp. Luckily, Kyle intervened in the nick of time and pulled Stan away from him. 

“Stan? Stan. Come on. Clyde just called, they found Cartman and they’re bringing him in now.” Kyle was trying his best to soothe the seething detective. Stan took a breath and shook his head.

“I’m fine, Kyle. I’m good. Thanks.” He gave Kyle a pat on the shoulder and walked back over to the table. 

“Where were you last night from 7:00 P.M. to 4:00 this morning?” Stan asked in the calmest voice he could manage. 

“I want a lawyer.” 

* * *

 

**_Five hours remaining_ **

In Interrogation Room B, Cartman was impatiently tapping his foot as he waited to be questioned. He couldn’t have been in there for more than ten minutes when Stan and Kyle finally entered and sat across the table from him. 

“Jesus, took you two long enough.” Cartman scoffed. “Did you need to get a makeout session in before interrogating me?” 

“Not the time, dude.” Kyle warned. Typically, Cartman would see it as a challenge, but something about the look in Kyle’s eye told him that he should leave it at that.

“You were seen last night with Tweek at Buca Di Faggoncini, what were you doing there?” Stan asked flatly. 

“I was talking to Tweek, that’s my own personal business and I don’t have to tell you anything.” Cartman huffed, crossing his arms. 

“Let me cut to the chase then, Tweek was kidnapped and we have seven hours to find him before he suffocates somewhere underground. You were the last person to see him alive, and our sources say you’ve been in contact with some executives at Harbucks Coffee. So how about instead of trying my patience, you give me one reason I shouldn’t arrest you for kidnap and potentially murder right now?” Stan shot Cartman a threatening glare. Allegations like that were serious, and unlike when they were kids, he could recognize that Stan had the power and authority to follow through.

“Woah, you don’t think I would actually do that shit, do you? Jesus Christ!” 

“I do. We all remember Scott Tenorman, I think you’re more than capable of pulling this off.” Kyle interjected, crossing his arms.

“Alright, alright! I was in touch with some people at Harbucks, okay? But I didn’t kidnap Tweek! They were offering me a deal, if I could get Tweak Coffee to sell their shop to Harbucks, I would get money, shares, and I’d be the owner of that franchise, I’d make millions!” Cartman explained.

“And Tweek wouldn’t sell so you kidnapped him, now you win either way. You get the ransom money, or Tweak Coffee goes under and you get your deal with Harbucks.” Stan speculated, crossing his arms.

“What? Dude, no! When I met with Tweek last night, we were talking details and we made a deal! Tweek said he would sell Tweak Coffee to Harbucks, and I was going to give him a management position in the store so I’d never have to work in it myself and he’d have income to live off of. Your people found me waiting at fucking Tweak Coffee because that’s where he said he’d meet me to sign the papers and finalize everything!” Cartman looked between the two, a frantic, desperate expression on his face. 

“Why should we believe you? He could have said no and now you’re just trying to cover your fat ass.” Kyle spat back. 

“EY! Don’t start with me, Kyle!” Cartman barked in response. “I didn’t even set up the meeting, it was Tweek. I have an email from him asking me to meet him there. AND! If you look in the folder your men confiscated, you’ll find an article I was drafting that he requested as part of the deal.” 

“What was the article about?” Stan asked as he handed Kyle the rapidly growing case file. 

“Funny you should ask, Stan. It was a public apology article about the incident with his dad. It’s also an announcement that I’ll be testifying on his father’s behalf at his appeal.” Cartman crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I was going to have my ten million dollars by the end of the year!” 

“I’m not convinced. If Tweek was out of the picture, you’d still get your ten million dollars, Cartman, Harbucks would get the shop just like you wanted.” Stan responded. 

“No, because if Tweek dies, the shop goes to Craig, just like everything else. He was going to talk to my lawyer to get his will and life insurance stuff changed this morning when we all got together.” He huffed. 

Stan and Kyle looked at one another, Craig was looking worse and worse by the second. 

“So can I go or…?” Cartman glanced between the door and the two in front of him. 

“Stay in town, keep your phone on. If we need anything else we’ll call you.” Stan said as he rose to his feet and made his way to the door. 

Something wasn’t adding up, everything pointed to Craig, it was coming together but something wasn't right. In Stan’s experience, if something seemed too good to be true, it often was. He turned the corner with Kyle in tow, and found the conference room to be empty. 

“Hey, guys, where’s Mrs. Tweak?” Stan asked the surrounding officers. 

“She left here a little while ago, she seemed pretty upset when we told her not to pay the ransom.” One of the members of the crisis team informed him. 

“Why would she be upset? She filed for bankruptcy not too long ago, she couldn’t pay it even if she wanted to.” Stan was puzzled, and when he looked over at the expression on Kyle’s face, he realized that he’d been played. “EVERYBODY LISTEN UP! I want an APB put out on Mrs. Tweak right now, I want her back here within the hour, got it?!” He shouted, and the officers in earshot nodded and shuffled out the door obediently. 

“You don’t think she could have actually done this, do you?” Kyle asked, following Stan closely as he ran up the stairs back to his office. 

“I don’t think she’s physically capable of burying someone alive at her age.” Stan said as he shuffled through the files in the cabinet. “But I do think that she has motive.” 

“So you think she may have had an accomplice?” Kyle was still trying to catch up. 

“No, I think she watched one too many crime shows and assumed that we’d pay the ransom to get Tweek back and she’d get the money so she can pay off her remaining debts or just leave the country or who knows what.” Stan pulled the file from Tweek’s father’s case. 

“That seems like a bit of a reach, Stan. Everything’s pointing to Craig, why are you so sure it’s not him?” 

“Because it’s too perfect, Kyle. And…” Stan dropped the file on the desk and started shuffling through it. “Craig doesn’t know about the will. Tweek’s mother was the one that took out a life insurance policy on him after we arrested Mr. Tweak. We found record of it and originally we thought it was sketchy and possibly related to the case but it seemed like a dead end so we never followed up on the lead. What if Tweek found out about it, changed the beneficiary himself, meanwhile, she was none the wiser?” 

“So you’re saying if she knew about the deal, she might have known that he was planning on changing his will without realizing he already changed it all once before.” Kyle speculated.

“Bingo. And as far as she knows, whether Tweek lives or dies, she gets the payout she’s been dreaming of and the guy who broke her son’s heart rots in prison.” 

“But you even said yourself, his mom’s not capable of burying someone alive, so what happened to Tweek?” 

“That’s what doesn’t sit well with me. She might not be able to physically bury him alive, but she’s his mother, do you really think she could kill her own son?” 

“No.” Kyle said, his voice firm with certainty. “I don’t think she’d be able to go through with something like that, and even if she did, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself, let alone fake a whole ransom call.” 

“So you think…” Stan began tentatively. 

“He’s alive somewhere, but I can’t say how much longer.” Kyle gave a small half smile and Stan looked like he could finally breathe again. 

“Come on,” Stan said as he passed a portion of the hefty case file over to Kyle. “There’s got to be something in here. Look for anything location-specific, then we can narrow it down from there.” 

With that, the two got to work.

* * *

 

**_Four hours remaining_ **

The ringing of the landline pulled Stan and Kyle from their deep trance of meticulously searching through every record they had on the Tweak family.

“Detective Marsh.” Stan greeted as he picked up the receiver. 

“We’re too late, man. She’s gone.” Clyde muttered on the other end of the line.

“What do you mean ‘She’s gone’? Is she dead?” Stan pressed, he didn’t have time for any vague or ominous hints, he needed facts and he needed them yesterday. 

“No, she’s just gone. She’s not at her house and we’ve been patrolling the streets, there’s no sign of her anywhere.” 

“People don’t just up and disappear, Clyde. Keep looking and call me when you’ve got something.” Stan hung up on him before Clyde had a chance to voice a reply. 

Kyle’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Stan, he’s trying.” 

“We don’t have fucking time for that, Kyle! We’re at four hours, that’s four hours until Tweek is definitively dead, do you really want that on your head?” Stan was frantic. After a few moments of silence from Kyle, he took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I just…”   
“I know, Stan.” Kyle muttered softly, as he looked down, he finally saw it, the answer gleaming like a golden light from the heavens. “Oh my god, we’re idiots.”  
“Thanks, Kyle, that’s what I need to hear right now.” 

“No, dumbass, did anyone check the storage unit?” Kyle was damn near giddy, adrenaline was pumping through his veins and he was practically vibrating in his chair. 

“What storage unit?” Stan got up and looked over Kyle’s shoulder at the document he was looking at. 

“The one that you guys found the huge meth stash in.” Kyle handed him the report. 

“It was cleared out and the contents were confiscated as evidence during the investigation, it’s kind of a stretch but it’s the best we got. Come on.” Stan gave a pat to the back of Kyle’s chair and grabbed his coat before rushing out the door. They hopped into the patrol car and Kyle mentally prepared himself for yet another wild ride. 

The duo reached the U-Stor-It within fifteen minutes, Stan signaled for backup over the radio and two additional patrol cars met them shortly after. If they were to find Mrs. Tweak in there, it was likely that she could be armed and if there’s one thing the academy taught them it’s that there is nothing more dangerous than a panicked person with a gun. 

“Alright guys, remember to stay cool, stay calm, and only shoot if there’s a present threat, got it?” Stan briefed the four officers who showed up. 

“Yes, sir.” Clyde said as he slipped on the bullet-proof safety vest. 

“Shouldn’t you have one of those?” Kyle asked, wearing his fear front and center on his face. Stan usually liked to avoid wearing the kevlar when he could because he found it restricted his mobility, but if it put his best friend at ease, it seemed like a very reasonable price to pay. 

“You stay here and wait in the car, alright? I’ll be right back.” Stan gave him a reassuring smile before whistling to round up the rest of his team. Kyle felt his stomach drop, feelings of dread and foreboding consumed him the moment he saw Stan walk through the gates of the storage facility. 

* * *

 

**_Three hours remaining_ **

The team made their way to the unit and found that the bolt was cut, just as they had left it during their previous investigation. Clyde turned back to Stan, tilting his head as if to ask if they were going to pursue it further. They didn’t have a warrant, but Stan was confident that Kyle would find a way around that later. In the meantime, there was a life on the line, there was no time for legal formalities. They cautiously pushed the metal door open.

As expected, the unit was clean and nearly empty after being cleared out in the previous investigation. However, in the corner behind one of the shelving units, Stan noticed a blanket covering an unidentified mound. He personally headed up the investigation, and he was positive that there was absolutely nothing else remaining when he left; this had to be new. He approached with caution and carefully pulled the cloth to reveal what looked like a random assortment of junk.

“Clear.” He alerted his team who still had their guns drawn and at the ready. 

“What’s that?” Clyde asked as he made his way to Stan’s side. 

Upon closer examination, Stan found a taser, a burner phone, what looked like a speaker and a classic old-fashioned tape recorder all bundled up in what looked like a scuba suit next to an air tank and other miscellaneous diving gear. 

“I think it’s some pretty damning evidence.” Stan muttered to himself as he covered his hand with the blanket and lifted one of the nicknacks, being careful to not contaminate it with his own fingerprints. 

“You think that’s what the kidnapper used to make the ransom call?” Clyde asked as he ducked down to get a closer look. “And here we were, thinking it was some kind of technological mastermind. Turns out it’s just some wack job scuba-diving enthusiast.” 

Stan scoffed, “Yeah, because landlocked Colorado is known for its exotic dive-sites.” 

As he lifted the suit, something dropped to the floor with a startling metallic clang. In that moment, it hit him like a load of bricks. On the ground before him was the key to solving the whole case, or more specifically, the key to Mrs. Tweak’s car. 

“Holy shit.” Stan muttered to himself. He glanced over at Clyde who was not quite up to speed. “Get everyone over to Stark’s Pond right now with a tow truck and whatever the hell else they’ll need to druge the lake. GO GO GO!” He ordered. 

The team flew out of the storage unit and returned to their cars, Stan stood by to snap a few pictures of the evidence he’d discovered and dialed Kyle’s number. 

“Stan? What’s going on?” Kyle answered before the second ring. 

“You were right, it was the mom.”

“What did you find?” 

“One of those old fashioned voice changing toys, a tape recorder, burner phone, the works. You called it, she must have made the ransom call herself, thought someone would end up paying somehow, and if not, she’d just collect the life insurance.” Stan told him, clicking his tongue. “She didn’t bury Tweek, she just locked him in her car and sent it into Stark’s Pond where the ransom money would be dropped off. My guess is that she thought we’d go check it out and find him before time was up and by then, she’d be long gone with the money.” 

“Shit, dude.” Kyle muttered quietly. 

“Yeah, and if she couldn’t go through with that, she had a full scuba suit ready to go so she could try to save him herself.” Stan let out a breathy chuckle in relief. “I’ve got a team heading out now to go and find the car in the lake, hopefully I’m right and he’ll be out within the hour. I’m coming back to the car, I just needed to bag and tag the rest of the evidence here.” 

“Great job, Stan. You did it, dude!” Kyle was audibly excited but the clatter resounding from the other end of the line gave him pause. “Everything okay?”

_ Silence. _

“Stan?” 

_ Dial tone. _

In that moment, Kyle felt like he was the one drowning. Noises sounded distant, and the world looked as though it was a hazy blur around him. In a panic, he grabbed the pistol Stan kept in the glove compartment and bolted out of the car into the facility. 

He had only caught a momentary glimpse of the scene: Mrs. Tweak was standing at the threshold of the unit and Stan’s one arm in Kyle’s line of sight appeared to be raised as he stood across from her inside. Stan was being held at gunpoint. 

Two deafening bangs, only milliseconds apart echoed off the walls. 

Kyle may never know who shot first. He blinked and the woman was crumpled on the floor and shrieking in agony, the wailing broken up intermittently by the sound of her desperately choking as the vacancy of air in her lungs was taken over by her own blood. Kyle hit her from an angle, between her breast and underarm, undoubtedly puncturing both lungs and ensuring a quick yet rather unpleasant death. Mrs. Tweak was hideous, she hardly even looked human. The way her body was grotesquely contorted made Kyle sick to his stomach, like some kind of horrific demon drenched in holy blood, spewing obscenities and desperate pleas as her wretched soul was torn from flesh and banished back to the abyss. The urge to retch subsided as his adrenaline took over, and he raced into the unit to find his friend laying flat on the ground. 

Stan looked like a graceful, dignified king, a hero fallen in battle and wearily resting in a bed of liquid roses. Kyle rushed to his side and fell to his knees. Without a second thought, he lifted Stan’s head and used his own jacket to try and apply ample pressure to the wound at the back of his head. Kyle cried and begged and demanded that he keep fighting. He grabbed the phone that Stan had dropped with his free hand and dialed 9-11. 

Stan Marsh cannot die. 

Kyle won’t allow it.

Stan was blinking weakly, his eyes rolled back in his head. He was a fighter, a warrior, a champion; this was a battle that he would not lose. Kyle’s demands and desperate cries fell on deaf ears. 

Stan’s eyes fluttered shut.

The sound of sirens grew louder.

And for the first time since he was a child, Kyle prayed.

 

* * *

 

Tweek was saved. Clyde lead the rescue team and together they managed to locate the car and drag it out in less than an hour. Local news vans and helicopters were swarming the pond to get exclusive coverage of the heroic rescue; townspeople watched at the edge of their seats from their homes in anticipation and a hush fell over South Park. Clyde had the honor of opening the door and a battered but breathing Tweek fell out of the car and into his arms. The moment the blonde lifted his head and showed his smiling, tear-stained face, the surrounding crowds and at-home viewers erupted in a roar of celebratory cheering. Kenny didn’t need a call from Craig to know their date was cancelled, the Channel 9 coverage of the incredible rescue was confirmation enough. Everything was going to be okay.  

The ambulances onsite delivered Tweek to Hell’s Pass Hospital for a thorough examination and any treatment he may need. Clyde focused on the other issue at hand; he returned to the police station and found Craig still waiting with his attorney in the interrogation room. He took great pleasure in giving him the news.

Craig wept. 

Clyde held him.

They went to the hospital. 

It was the day that lasted a thousand years, and the sun was still yet to set. It would be three hours before a nurse would permit Craig to finally see Tweek, but after all that happened, he wouldn’t mind waiting till the end of time if it meant that Tweek would be safe and well. When Craig stepped into the room, no words were exchanged, the gaze the two shared rendered language unnecessary. Together, in comfortable silence, fractured hearts began to heal, bonds once broken found themselves mended and whole. The details were secondary, issues and conversation were problems for the future. In that moment, all that mattered was their hands clasping one another, just as they used to for all those years. In that moment, they were home. 

 

* * *

 

On the other side of Hell’s Pass Hospital, the story was far from over. The ICU waiting room was entirely void of faith or optimism, the atmosphere was heavy with impending grief. Kyle Broflovski, a rational man, wasn’t hopeful; he was stubborn. The chance of Stan surviving the shot was minuscule at best, but Kyle wasn’t ready to lose his best friend, he would not allow Stan to leave him like this; Stan was not going to die. 

Sharon and Randy Marsh came as quickly as they could, Shelly was soon to follow. Next came Kenny, then Cartman, and by the time the clock struck midnight, not a single seat was left vacant in the waiting room. Everything felt surreal, it was only when someone put a hand on Kyle’s shoulder that he snapped back into reality. 

“You’re Kyle Broflovski, right?” A deep, gravelly voice asked. Kyle turned to see a hickory-skinned goliath of a man towering over him. 

“Yeah…And you are?” Kyle asked, his voice cold.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve opened with that. The name’s Andy. I’m Stan’s sponsor.” He said with a sympathetic half-smile. 

“Oh my god.” Kyle’s eyes widened, he was mortified. “I’m so sorry, just with everything-” 

“Don’t worry, these are tough times, I think everyone here’s a little on edge.” 

Kyle sighed and nodded. He had never met Stan’s AA sponsor prior to that moment, the only conversation they had was when Kyle was making calls to all of Stan’s favorited contacts. Andy was a gentle giant, and while Kyle was typically the “suffer in silence and solitude” type, something about his demeanor was giving him the comfort he hadn’t realize he so desperately needed. 

“Some of the members of the group and I were going to go out and get some air, we wanted to see if maybe you’d want to join us.” He offered with earnest. “No pressure or anything, just want to let you know the offer’s open.” 

Kyle paused and glanced at the double doors of the hallway, there was no sign of any activity yet. 

“Maybe for a few minutes, but I have to be back just in case...” Kyle trailed off.

“I completely understand. Come on, the guys will be thrilled to finally meet the amazing Kyle.” Andy said with a chuckle as he started walking toward the door. 

“The amazing Kyle?” He asked incredulously.

“Stan talks a lot about you.” 

“Good things, I hope.” 

“Depends on the day.” Andy gave him a lighthearted pat on the back. “Hey guys, I want you to meet Kyle Broflovski, he was the one that called everyone here.” 

Kyle gave the group a timid wave and all five men crowded together to engulf Kyle in a massive group hug. While such a gesture would typically repulse him, he couldn’t deny that in these circumstances, it was exactly what he needed. As they dispersed, Kyle looked at all of the faces, gruff mountain men with beards and an almost Santa-like quality to each of them. These men were Stan’s safety net, Kyle may have been the one to pull him kicking and screaming from the depths of his addiction all those years ago, but it was these people standing before him that kept him afloat for so long. He had nothing but the utmost respect for each and every one of them. 

“He’ll make it.” One of them said, fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “That guy has fought his fair share of demons in his time, no way a pesky metal pebble takes him down.” 

“Yeah, when Stan goes, it’ll be at the hands of a bear or some other kind of bad-ass blaze of glory.” Another said with a laugh. 

“Or in the middle of an orgy at 95 years old.” A third one quipped, and even Kyle couldn’t suppress a chuckle. 

“He’s gonna be alright.” Andy assured them. “We’ll see him next week and he’ll come back with another crazy story about who knows what and we’ll all politely lie and scarf down whatever homemade monstrosity he brings as a group snack.” 

They stayed outside talking until the sun began to set, and while Kyle wasn’t an alcoholic, he found that AA was the perfect support group to help him through the longest day he’d ever experience.  

* * *

 

The hours felt like years, with each one passing, the crowd in the waiting room slowly dispersed; Stan’s addiction support group were the last to leave around 11:00 PM. All that were left by midnight was Kyle, Sharon, and Randy. Stan’s mother’s face was red and her eyes were swollen, though her tears had run dry after hours of relentless sobbing. Randy had his arm around her, his face uncharacteristically stoic and grim. Stan’s father had always been known to cling desperately to his youth, but Kyle could tell that each tick of the clock added decades onto the man’s face. It broke his heart. 

The doctor finally emerged and the three jumped up at the sight of him. Kyle couldn’t read his expression, and his momentary silence only caused the tension in the room to grow thicker and thicker. At last, he spoke. Through all the medical jargon and complicated summaries of what occurred beyond those doors, there was only one thing that mattered, one thing that they understood. 

Stan was going to live.

The road to recovery would be long, and as is, he still had not yet woken from the surgery and there was still a chance that he may never, but that was secondary. For now, Stan survived, he was stable, and that meant everything. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around! 
> 
> This chapter is a bit shorter and mostly dialogue, but hopefully it's for the best. I hope you like it!

Kyle learned the hard way that no good deed goes unpunished. Following Tweek’s rescue, he was sent on a mandatory sabbatical while the feds were to review and determine proper action that would be taken regarding his position. For the first two weeks, he lived at the hospital in the chair at Stan’s bedside, talking to him, watching TV, keeping him company for as long as he could between hearings. The process overall was degrading, pointless, and worst of all, a monumental waste of time.

It was in that time, however, that he had the opportunity to rekindle his friendship with one Kenny McCormick. When he would leave to shower, or when Stan’s parents wanted the chance to sit with their son, Kyle would often find himself at a bar with Kenny reminiscing and catching up.

“Nothing yet, huh?” Kenny asked as he took a long swig of his beer.

“The doctors said he’s stable and he’s been showing a decent amount of brain activity, so it’s likely he’ll wake up any day now.” Kyle said with a long sigh.

“You don’t sound too happy about that.”

“What? I’m thrilled about that, slap-happy fan-fucking-tastic even. What I’m not looking forward to is going to D.C. to deal with all the mess.” He groaned as he put a hand up, signaling the bartender for a beer of his own.

“D.C.? Why the hell do you have to go to D.C.?” Kenny asked.

“To be reamed out in a nicer building, I guess.” Kyle sighed. “They’re considering disbarring me, apparently it’s kind of a big deal.”

“Fuck that. Leave it to the feds to try and punish someone for saving a person’s life, yeah that’s real fucking great! David! We need shots over here!”

David Rodriguez had suffered a multitude of hardships since moving to South Park, and while most involved the never-ending verbal abuse from one Eric Cartman, there was some that the universe had played all on its own. Only a few years after their high school graduation, David lost both his parents to a horrific car accident involving an icy road and a deer. Not only did he have to bury them both on his own, but he was left with the overwhelming chore of finding out what to do with their family restaurant. What else could he do but turn it into his very own bar.

“Gonna need more than that, Ken.” He called from the other end of the bar.

Kenny and Kyle looked at each other, as if trying to pull an order out from one another telepathically.

“Surprise me!” Kenny called back in return.

David chuckled and poured them each a shot from an unmarked jug he kept below the bar. The two eyed him warily as he sauntered over and delivered their beverages.

“Drink up, fellas.” David had an impish grin on his face.

“What...is this?” Kyle asked cautiously.  

“Do you not trust me, Broflovski?” David challenged, his expression morphing into faux upset. Kenny took a deep breath and knocked back the shot, banging it down on the table as his eyes shut tightly, straining to keep it down.

“Uhh…” Kyle glanced between Kenny, his shot, and David rapidly. “If you kill Kenny, dude-”

“I’m good!” Kenny’s voice cracked as he exhaled, a shiver running down his spine. “There, I did it. Your turn.” He panted, pushing the shot closer to Kyle.

Kyle hesitated for a moment, weighing out how much his life was worth at that point and trying to determine if he had anything else to do for the remainder of the day. With a deep inhale, he knocked it back and gagged almost immediately.

“Hey! There you go!” Kenny cheered, patting him on the back with a hearty laugh. Kyle was covering his mouth and shaking his head like a child who just had their first taste of medicine.

“What the hell is that?!” He demanded at David, accusation in his tone.

“Let’s just call it moonshine. Now, keys, both of you.” David held out his hand for both of them to drop their keys in. “Good boys.” He cooed as he deposited them into his apron pocket.

“Ugh, God. Dude, what if I have to go back to the hospital?” Kyle asked apprehensively.

“Whoa there man, it’s alcohol, not rat poisoning. Calm down.” David said defensively.

“Don’t worry, David, he’s not talking about himself. Stan’s in the hospital, been in a coma or something for what, a week now?” Kenny clarified and Kyle nodded in response.

“Shit, that sounds pretty serious.” He said as he picked up a glass and absently started polishing it with a towel.

“Yeah, shot in the head, lived, and yet it was the anaesthesia that put him into a coma. Isn’t that something?” Kyle cleared his throat and shook his head.

“Sure is. And Kyle here saved his life, and now the damn government is trying to punish him for it. It’s fucking bullshit.” Kenny took another swig from his neglected bottle on the counter.

“I feel like I’m missing something here.”

“I shot the person who shot him, I was in the field when I wasn’t supposed to be, and I walked out of court in a felony case.” Kyle dropped his head down into his arms that were resting on the bar. “Now I’m going to get disbarred and I’ll have to find a job at City Wok.”

“No offense, but I don’t think you’d get hired over there. Your standards are too high and you know too much about labor laws.” Kenny quipped.

“Hold up, rewind.” David pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to put the pieces together. “So someone shot Stan and you left work so that you could get revenge or?”

“No, but I can’t say anymore since it’s an ongoing investigation.” Kyle groaned.

“It was Tweek, he was trying to find Tweek then they came head to head with the kidnapper, Kyle tried to protect Stan, and now instead of calling him a fucking hero like he is, they’re fucking him.” Kenny huffed, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his barstool.

“How do you guys always manage to get involved in the craziest shit? Seriously, since I’ve moved here, you guys somehow always end up in the middle of the most fucked up, dramatic, and fucking dangerous situations. Why? What the hell is wrong with you?” David shook his head, exasperated by the story alone.

“Well, it’s Stan’s job now.” Kyle hiccupped, warmth spreading rapidly in his chest. “And as his super best friend, I need to have his back.”

“David, you’re my super best friend.” Kenny sighed affectionately, reaching a hand toward the bartender.

David let out a bellowing laugh and slapped his hand away. “Sure thing, buddy. Here, have another, on the house.” He passed another beer over to Kenny, shaking his head.

“No, it’s different, Stan and I, we’re like peas in a pop. A pop. That’s not right.” Kyle trailed off, muttering to himself.

“Pod, Kyle. Peas in a pod.” David clarified.

Kyle snapped his fingers in response. “Thank you.”

“You know, if this place ever goes under, I think I’ve got a promising future as a babysitter.” David scoffed as he poured himself a glass of scotch.

“Hey, don’t talk like that!” Kenny scolded, a pouty grimace on his face.

“Don’t worry, with you around, the bar isn’t going anywhere.” David chuckled as he took a slow, savory sip of his bourbon.

* * *

**_One week later_ **

 

“You’re back late.” Stan murmured as he slowly sat up in bed, rubbing his eye groggily. In the doorway stood a lean figure wearing a perfectly tailored bespoke suit. The silhouette looked like it belonged in the cover poster of a modern adaptation of a noir film; it was the living personification of the sound of the smoothest jazz the lost generation had to offer.

“Well, the work of a prosecutor is never done. Did I wake you?” Kyle asked as he neatly folded his jacket and placed it on the dresser at the foot of the bed.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said with a yawn.

Watching Kyle strip down was a thing of wonder, Stan couldn’t bring himself to avert his eyes. He’d seen it a hundred times before, and yet, he still considered it one of the greatest privileges every time he was able to catch a glimpse of that perfectly pale skin slowly being exposed as each garment was so delicately peeled from his perfect frame.

“Hey, you’re staring again.” The redhead snapped him back to reality and Stan blinked and let out an apologetic half-laugh.

“Sorry, you’re just… looking at you is…” He stammered, clearly flustered.

“Well… You can do more than look.” Kyle gave him a cheeky grin and licked his lips, yet another sight that Stan found to be positively tantalizing.

As he beckoned Kyle closer with a curl of his finger, the red headed lawyer crawled onto the bed, wearing only his briefs. Stan felt fire beneath his skin, the promise of turbulence in the coming storm of sensations were enough to make him hard before Kyle even reached his lips. Kyle hovered above him, very much aware of his lover’s bulge pressed up against his thigh.   

“Are you sure you’re not too tired?” He whispered, his lips brushing up against Stan’s like some kind of torturous tease.

“Do you expect me to sleep now?” Stan said softly as he lifted his hips to grind roughly against Kyle’s, eliciting a most enticing moan from the other.

Lips crashed together.  The two were breathless as they swallowed each sweet drop of every golden honey-sweet moan that spilled from the other’s mouth, terrified that should they stop they’d both be sure to drown. They gasped, they laughed, warmth emanated from that rickety bed that Stan bought secondhand after finding the first place he could independently call his own. But suddenly, Kyle halted.

“What, what’s wrong?” Stan whispered, bringing a hand up to cup the distressed face of the man above him. Kyle’s breath hitched and he shook his head in denial.

“It’s stupid, don’t worry about it.” He tried to shrug it off has he swooped back down to claim another kiss.

“No, talk to me.” Stan insisted, Kyle hesitated in response.

“I almost lost you, Stan.” He murmured, pressing his forehead to Stan’s. “You could have died, hell, you should have died, I don’t know how you-”

“I’m here, Kyle. I’m not going anywhere. I’m okay.” Stan reassured him, pressing soft comforting kisses to his cheeks and eyelids. The tenderness was excruciating, it was beautiful, and the fact that he came so close to missing all of it left him with a pit in his stomach.

“Come home to me.” He pleaded softly.

Stan looked up, confusion in his eyes. It made no sense, he was home, he was there.

Until he wasn’t.

 

Waking up felt like drowning. Sounds around him were muted and the light beaming from the surface was so strong and bright, Stan could have sworn that on his way into the depths he would be blinded. The life he led, the life he had grown accustomed to was slipping away with each blink as the new world around him slowly began to come into focus. First was the fluorescent lights, a fly buzzing around one of the bar-shaped bulbs, entranced by its beauty. In his peripheral was a blur of red, and in that moment, Stan could swear that he was back. He turned his head and met the eyes of his angel, disheveled and ecstatic.

“Nurse! We need a nurse! He’s waking up!” Kyle called, one hand gripping Stan’s forearm, the other manically pressing the call button on the bed’s reclining remote.

“Kyle…” Stan murmured quietly, raising a palm up to cup his cheek.

“Shh, don’t talk, you’re okay. Dude, you gave me a really good scare there.” Kyle said with a soft half-laugh, tears of absolute joy collecting at the corners of his eye.

It was only seconds before a trio of nurses rushed into the room and Kyle was back in the hallway, just watching through the glass pane as they began questioning him and checking his vitals. Stan’s eyes were locked on his, his expression distinctly portraying how overwhelmed he was. Kyle gave him a silent reassuring nod and smile before a doctor touched his shoulder and stole his attention away. The nurses were prodding and poking at Stan, demanding a response that he couldn’t bring himself to give.

That was the last time Stan would see him for the next month.

 

* * *

With each passing day, Stan’s condition was making leaps and bounds toward recovery. After three days, he regained a majority of his motor function and he was no longer seeing double. The biggest challenge he faced, however, was relearning his own reality. He struggled with accepting all that came with the ordeal he suffered, but what pained him the most was coping with the knowledge that his best friend was just that and nothing more. It took unbelievable patience, but over the course of those four weeks, Stan’s irritability, slurring of speech, amnesia and all other post-comatose symptoms subsided, and finally, he was discharged.

Sharon and Randy were the ones to pick him up from the hospital, much to Stan’s chagrin. He couldn’t help but be reminded of all the times his mother would drive him and his father back home from his little league games. Just as it was back then, Stan had to restrain himself from gagging either from the stench of cheap beer emanating from his inebriated father in the passenger seat or the damn near palpable tension radiating from his mother’s very soul in the driver’s seat. At least they were courteous enough to remain quiet this time around, Stan didn’t know if he could stomach the sound of one of their screaming matches just yet. At some point, they finally pulled into the driveway of the Marsh family home. Sharon brought in her son’s luggage, while Stan carried in his father. Once he plopped him down on the couch in the living room, he went to the kitchen to find his frustrated mother rubbing her temples.

“Mom?” Stan addressed her quietly.

She looked up, her mouth was about to form an apology but instead her lips pressed together, quivering as she met her son’s eyes. Stan walked to her and enveloped her in a hug. Through the years, Stan outgrew his parents, and at the ripe age of thirty he towered at least six inches taller than his mother. Her face was pressed to his chest and without speaking a word, she cried, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist like she thought he may slip away or disappear at any moment.

“I’m here, Mom. You don’t have to worry anymore.” He whispered.

They spent the rest of the day in that kitchen, sitting at the table, talking and laughing just as they used to when he was a child.

* * *

Stan was ready to get back to work. The 72 hours he spent in his childhood home were just the right amount of time for him to go absolutely stir-crazy; between the bickering, the nagging, and the endless coddling, Stan was moments away from losing his shit. After hours of trying to convince his mother that he would be careful as could be, he was finally able to leave the house guilt-free. He called an Uber and went to the city prosecutor’s office.

His heart was pounding in his chest, he had not seen Kyle since he first woke up from his coma. As he walked through the glass double-doors, Stan’s breath hitched in anticipation of seeing his best friend.

Instead, he was met with the sight of Kyle's adoptive canadian brother, Ike Broflovski. Ike hadn’t set foot in South Park since being accepted into Columbia to study law; after graduation, he was even recruited by the attorney general to be a federal prosecutor for a stint before moving to work in the FBI’s legal department. Stan blinked at the sight of him, baffled by the presence of the lanky man before him.

“Stan Marsh, funny I should run into you here.” Ike greeted with a smile.

“You’re not Kyle.” Stan muttered, his head tilted to the side.

“Good to see your brain’s back up and running.” He chuckled.

“I’m sorry. Welcome back, Ike!” Stan smiled but his confusion remained evident in his expression. “What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Washington with the rest of the suits?”

“Funny you should mention that, actually. Why don’t you come with me and we can talk.”

“I totally would, but I’m actually in a press for time, is Kyle around?”

Ike’s expression flattened, Stan’s smile fell. Ike shrugged his shoulder and turned on his heel, moving toward one of the offices in the hall as Stan trailed behind him. Once they reached the office, the first thing that caught Stan’s attention was the nameplate on the mahogany desk, ‘Ike Broflovski, City Attorney’.

“What’s going on here, Ike?” He asked apprehensively as Ike sunk down into the oversized leather chair behind the desk.

“Take a seat, Stan. I’ll explain everything.” Ike said calmly as Stan obeyed and sat in the chair across from him.

“Where’s Kyle?”

“In Washington.”

“What?! Why is he there?”

“Stan, calm down. Everything is fine.” Ike reassured him. “Can I explain now?”

Stan nodded.

“Good. Now, as you know, you suffered a significant trauma and we are all very happy that you made it out okay and have had a smooth and speedy recovery. That being said, the events that lead up to said trauma have caught the attention of the federal government and I’ve been sent here to review the conduct and structure of local law enforcement, evaluate the effectiveness of their employees, and make whatever changes necessary.”

“Whoa, whoa, hang on just a second! Crime is at an all-time low here, I’ve worked my ass off to redeem this damned town and things are perfectly fine as they are!” Stan argued, offended by what Ike was implying.

“I’m not denying that. What I’m saying is that structurally, law enforcement here is all kinds of crazy. There are no boundaries, people are going outside their jurisdiction and acting like they have authority that they absolutely do not and the only reason that there hasn’t been a full federal takeover to try and fix this mess is because for some reason you’ve made it work so far, and that is an incredible feat to have accomplished.” Ike explained.

“Well, you know just as well as anyone that conventional methods don’t work too well here.” Stan insisted, prepared to defend his town’s honor to the best of his ability.

“I know, Stan, trust me. I’m not here to undo all the great work you’ve done here. But you need to understand, on some level, there needs to be some changes. The reality of the situation is that a civilian was killed. Do you understand that?”

“So this is about Kyle…” Stan muttered softly. “Listen, Ike, he didn’t have a choice, I’ll gladly testify to that.”

“That may be the case, but regardless, that is no small deal. A woman lost her life to a gun registered to a police officer in the hands of someone who was never authorized to be in the field at all in the first place.” Ike continued, his tone sympathetic.

“Listen, I’ll be the first to acknowledge that I definitely crossed a line by pulling him out of work to help me with the case, but I stand by my decision. If it weren’t for Kyle, both Tweek and I would be dead right now.” Stan insisted firmly.

“I understand what you’re saying, and you’re right. After reviewing the case file and reports, I found that Kyle was, in fact, a vital component in that investigation and under the circumstances, he was justified in taking that shot.”

“Okay, so then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that on top of all these other offenses, Kyle left court and because of that, a suspected felon went free.” Stan quirked a brow at the words.

“Kyle missing court and letting a burglar walk doesn’t seem that serious. It wasn’t even a violent felony.”

“It was the straw that broke the camel’s back.” Ike shrugged. “But like I said before, you were right, Kyle was a vital component in that investigation. You two worked very well together.”

“Great, so then why is he in Washington D.C.?” Stan asked, frustration bubbling within him.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that in detail, but he should be returning either today or tomorrow.” Ike said.

“And you’ll be leaving then?”

“Not exactly. I’m not here on a temporary basis, Stan. I stepped down as a federal prosecutor and moved back here because I’ll be taking over Kyle’s position. Everything’s been cleared with the DA’s office, and we’ve come to the agreement that I’ll be taking over the south park region and prosecuting all local felonies and misdemeanor cases.” Ike watched Stan closely, unable to read his expression.

“Holy fucking shit, you’re taking your own brother’s job? Dude, what the fuck?!” Stan was livid.

“Stan, let me explain.” Ike kept a calm, even tone as he lifted his hands in a “calm down”-like gesture.

“Oh this better be fucking good.” He huffed, crossing his arms.

“Before you go on a rampage, Kyle’s not fired. He’s taking over a new position that we’ve decided to create to fit the...unique needs of South Park.” He clarified.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that the federal government is recognizing that you and Kyle working together is in the town’s best interest. From here on, Kyle’s going to be working in the prosecutor’s office with me on an as-needed, part-time basis, and the rest of the time, he’ll be functioning as your partner.” Ike folded his hands together and sat up straighter.

“Kyle’s not a cop, Ike.”

“Which is why he’ll technically be classified as a consultant. He won’t have the same duties or privileges as you, but he’ll be responsible for keeping you in line and working as a profiler when needed in future investigations.”

Stan snorted, “You’re shitting me.”

“The paperwork has already been signed, everything’s all set up to go.” Ike said with a smile, hoping that Stan would be pleased with the decision.

“Great! So does this mean I have to wait for Kyle before going back to work?”

Ike was quiet.

“Oh come on, what now?” Stan groaned.

“Stan, you got shot in the head, you’ve recovered on a physical basis to the point that you were permitted to be discharged from the hospital. However, you still need to be certified as fit for duty before you can return to work.”

“Let me guess. You get to clear me.”

“That’s right.”

“Great! So if you can just get that rolling, I can…” Stan went quiet when he saw the discomfort on Ike’s face. “Dude… Really?”

Ike shook his head.

Stan sighed, of course it wouldn’t be easy.

* * *

Kenny spotted the grumpy detective as he was stomping down the street through CtPaTown with his arms crossed like a child after a tantrum. He pulled up next to him in his junker of a camaro and rolled down the window.

“Hey there, sailor, what’s your sign?” Kenny called with a cheeky grin. Stan turned, startled at first until he recognized the gap-toothed blonde in the driver’s seat.

“Kenny!” He greeted with a grin as he approached and leaned down, putting his elbows in the window. “What are you doing here?”

“Showing off my sweet hot rod.” Kenny’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Come on in, I was just heading over to Hooters for a bite to eat.”

Stan grinned and opened the door before climbing into the car. He could have sworn he heard it groan under his weight. “Shit, I don’t have my wallet, could we stop by my parents house?”

“My treat, man.” Kenny offered as he pulled out into the street and continued on his way over to the restaurant. “Wow, it’s good to see you out and about again, how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling good, I’m back! Totally, 100% back.” Stan said confidently. “Mostly excited to get back to work though.”

“What the fuck?” Kenny asked in disbelief. “I don’t know if you remember this, but on your last day of work you got fucking shot in the fucking head.”

“Okay, that’s fair, but you know what else happened on my last day of work?”

“What?”

“I learned that you and Craig Tucker had a thing back in high school. How did we never know about that?” Stan questioned with a chuckle.

“God, Kyle asked me about the same thing. We had a one night fling, it was not a ‘thing’, we both just got a little high and one thing led to another, you know?”

“Dude, I had no idea you were gay.”

“That’s because I’m not gay, Stan. As a great poet once said, ‘a hole is a hole is a hole...’” He cooed.

Stan roared with laughter. “Remind me to put that on a t-shirt later.”

“Pft, I offer to buy you dinner, and you come around and steal my slogan. That’s just cruel.” He chuckled.

They reached Hooters in the nick of time, and once they were seated, Kenny took a good hard look around the room, sighing in content.

“I guess now I can join the near-death experience club, huh?” Stan chuckled as he looked over the menu.

“You’ll get your welcome package in the mail in four-to-six weeks.” Kenny retorted. “Man, a two week coma, that’s fucking insane. What was that like?”

“I don’t know, I slept right through it.”

“Cute. But seriously, I’ve always wondered, were you able to hear what everyone around you was saying? Did you like, see yourself from third person or something? Did you dream?” Kenny asked excitedly.

“No, no, and kind of.” Stan replied.

“Kind of? How do you kind of dream?”

“It didn’t feel like a dream, dude. It was so real, you wouldn’t believe it. It was...amazing.” Stan scratched his cheek, now covered in scruff.

“What happened? Did you fly?”

“No, I didn’t fly. But… Kenny, have you ever had a dream that like, gave you a whole existential revelation?”

“No, but I’ve definitely had drugs that did.” Kenny said with an affirmative nod. “Why? What did this dream tell you?”

“Well…” Stan rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled to himself. “A hole is a hole is a hole.”

Kenny gasped. “Wait, what? Stan the man? South Park’s resident hete-bro Stan Marsh is...heteroflexible?”

“Heteroflexible? That’s definitely not a thing.” Stan whispered, looking around to make sure no one else had heard Kenny’s tangent.

“And yet here we are. Who was it? Brian Boitano? Keanu?”

“What? No, it wasn’t a celebrity.”

“Someone we know?” Kenny’s eyes danced in amusement.

“This is going to sound ridiculous, but-”

“It’s Kyle, isn’t it? Fuck, it is!” The blonde cackled. “You had a sex dream about Kyle!”

“Shh! Don’t go shouting it from the rooftops, Kenny!” Stan was bright red with embarrassment. “It wasn’t just a sex dream though, dude I was in a coma for two fucking weeks.”

“I need to know everything.” Kenny demanded.

“It was crazy, we were living together, Sparky was our dog…” Stan chuckled to himself, “Kenny, I was going to propose to him.”

“So the sex was premarital.” He assumed.

“That’s not the point, but yes, I guess technically, it was.”

“Was it good? I’ve always wondered, I’d bet Kyle’s like a briefcase bomb all pent up and ready to explode.”

“Hey!” Stan barked, a grimace on his face. “I-I mean, you’re not wrong, but-”

“Oh my god. I fucking knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You’re in love with Kyle, aren’t you? Your subconscious mind finally had the opportunity to knock you in the head and make you realize your true feelings.” Kenny was damn giddy at that point, barely able to sit still in his seat. Stan sighed and slowly nodded his head.

“Do you want a word of advice?” Kenny asked, reaching to put a hand on Stan’s arm.

“Lay it on me.”

“Tell him. Let him deal with whatever shit the feds flung at him, but as soon as he’s in a better state of mind, just quit wasting time and tell him.” He said, giving his arm a tender squeeze.

“I will.”

It was the best lunch he had in a long time, and despite their falling out of touch all those years ago, Stan and Kenny were having a ball, as if all that time had just stood still. Stan was happy, he even considered that lunch with Kenny may even become a new daily ritual. Everything was about to change and Stan could not have been more ready.

* * *

 

Clyde had the pleasure of picking Kyle up from Denver International Airport. While such a menial task would typically be accompanied by a groan and dragging feet, Clyde couldn’t have been happier to take it on, especially if that meant getting a break from the duties of Stan’s desk. He arrived an hour early, and spent the time gleefully singing along with the radio in his patrol car.

Halfway through the second chorus of Sweet Child o’ Mine, Clyde caught sight of the red-headed personification of irritability and exhaustion known as Kyle Broflovski. He jumped out of the patrol car, and frantically waved his hands in the air.

“KYLEY-B! RIGHT OVER HERE, BUDDY!” He cheered at the top of his lungs.

Kyle looked like the most mortified deer in the headlights.

“IT’S ME, CLYDE, I’M YOUR RIDE!” Clyde called.

Kyle had never seen him so excited, so shameless, so loud. He had half a mind to turn around and buy a ticket to literally anywhere else. Unfortunately, somehow, his feet began moving toward the car, trying to ignore the disturbed glances being thrown his way. When he ducked into the passenger seat, he finally looked up at Clyde. The officer looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“You have _no idea_ what I’ve been through.” Clyde assured him, his voice flat and nasally as always.

The ride back to Kyle’s home was excruciatingly long. Clyde went on and on the whole hour-long trek, talking about how stressful work had been and how grateful he was that Kyle had finally returned, but somehow Stan had not come up once in the whole tangent. Kyle, in total, managed to get four words in.

“There’s my house!” He announced as soon as the green colonial-style house came into view.

“Oh, that went pretty quickly. Do you need help with your bags or anything?”

“Nope, I got it, thanks for the lift, Clyde. See you later!” Kyle hurriedly bid him farewell and speedwalked up the porch stairs and into his living room. Once he heard the patrol car pull away, he took a deep breath and dropped his bags on the couch.

“Ah- shit!”

Kyle nearly shrieked and jumped, startled by the couch’s outburst.

“Stan?!” He asked as his friend rose to his feet, a wide grin on his face.

“Surprise!” Stan laughed, throwing up his best jazz-hands. “Welcome home!”

“Oh my god, you almost killed me!” Kyle couldn’t help but to laugh as well as they both went in for a hug.

“My bad.” He apologized as he gently pet Kyle’s hair. Kyle pulled back.

“Dude, Clyde just got me, he said you’re not back to work yet. Is everything alright? Is your head okay?”

“Yes, mom, I’m fine.” Stan retorted with a roll of his eyes. “Actually, it’s your brother who’s been in the way of that.”

“So you heard…” Kyle muttered.

“Yeah, Kyle, I’m so sorry about everything, I should have never put you in this position. Are you alright? Did the suits give you a rough time?”

“Stan, I just spent four weeks over there, the last thing I want to do is rehash it all again. What I’m concerned with is you, you seem so much better and... hairier.” Kyle couldn’t help but snicker as he looked over Stan’s new facial hair.

“Nice, isn’t it? Nothing’s more strong and manly than a beard.” Stan bragged, giving his hair a proud stroke.

“It’s… Stan, it’s patchy and you look like your dad.” Kyle burst out into a mad fit of laughter.

“Fucking asshole.” Stan shook his head, chuckling as he turned and ran up the stairs.

“Wait, where are you going?” Kyle called after him.

“Shaving, I’m borrowing your clippers!”

Kyle rolled his eyes and made his way over to the kitchen. He couldn’t deny that finding his best friend on his couch was a more than pleasant surprise. In all his time away, he found it difficult to think of anything but Stan, Kenny was his only source for information in their small hometown, and considering Stan has been sober for the last five years and Kenny spent a majority of his time at David’s bar, information on his best friend was pretty much nonexistent.

“You hungry?” Kyle called as he opened the fridge.

“Starving! But don’t cook, I want to go out!”

Kyle paused and grabbed a sprite before closing the door of the refrigerator. He made his way back over to the living room and made himself comfortable on the couch, turning on the TV. Right away, he knew that Stan must have been watching before because paused on the screen was their favorite episode of Terrance and Phillip. He pressed play and let himself melt into the leather of the couch.

“Wow, what a rare sight.” Stan muttered as he trotted down the stairs, pat-drying his face with the towel draped around his neck. “Kyle Broflovski actually relaxing for once? I never thought I’d see the day!”

Kyle flipped him the bird and took a sip of his soda.

“Remember this one?” Stan asked as he flopped down onto the couch next to him.

“The beginning. That stupid Sarah McLachlan commercial got me and I never caught the end after that.”

“Oh my god, and then you went into business with Cartman.”

“You told me I sounded just like him. I’d never been so insulted.”

“You did. You sounded exactly like him, I stand by it.” Stan gave a firm nod for emphasis as he looked over at Kyle out the corner of his eye.

“I was in the fourth grade, dude, I was hypnotized by bacon and poutine!” Kyle defended himself.

“Kyle.” Stan said, his tone seriously. “Crack. Baby. Basketball.”

The two engaged in a staring match that lasted far too long for any self respecting adults to ever admit to participating in.

“Didn’t you say you were hungry?” Kyle asked, Stan took it as an admission of defeat and let out a triumphant laugh.

“Yes! Yes, I did, and I want to go somewhere nice, because Kyle, this is a celebration!” He announced with gusto.

“So what are you thinking, Casa Bonita?”

“What? No, something more local. How about Buca di Faggoncini? Some italian, maybe a movie, I hear they’re re-running Asses of Fire at midnight, you in?” Thrill gleamed in Stan’s eyes.

“What’s with this sudden Terrance and Phillip kick?” Kyle chuckled as he rose from the couch.

“Nostalgia, I guess.” Stan groaned as he stood up. “And before you say anything, no, it’s not a brain damage thing, I know exactly what year it is and I am not losing it. It’s called appreciating the little things, Kyle, you should try it sometime.”

* * *

Parking at Buca di Faggoncini was an utter nightmare, as always. After Whistlin’ Willie’s went out of business, the local Italian restaurant became the go-to celebration destination for any South Park family that didn’t want to put the effort into travelling too far. With the family-style dining and classical european ambiance, Buca di Faggoncini was, truly, the last affordable family-friendly venue in town.

Stan and Kyle were finally settled into their table after an excruciating hour-long wait. Kyle had been filling Stan in on everything he missed, all the crazy stories Clyde told him in their ride back from the airport, and even his recent outings with Kenny. Stan looked downright jazzed to hear every last detail. Across from them in a corner booth sat the iconic couple, Tweek and Craig.

“Kyle, check it out!” Stan whispered as he twitched his head over in their direction, trying to be as subtle as possible.

“Oh right, they’re back together. Apparently getting buried alive is even more effective than couples therapy, who knew?” Kyle said absently as he went back to reading through the menu.

“They seem really happy.” Stan said softly before looking back at Kyle. “How about you? Anything change since I’ve been gone?”

“Other than what I’ve already told you, work and stuff, not really.”

“Good to know…” Stan mumbled as he started browsing through his own menu. “Have you decided what you want?”

“Yep, how about you?”

Stan looked back up at him, “Yeah, you know what, I think I have.”

“Great maybe the waitress will be back before tomorrow then.”  
“Ha. Wait, why is it so busy today?”

“I think there’s a rehearsal dinner for a wedding or something, looks like everyone got invited but us.” Kyle put his menu back on  the table before looking around, it was then that he realized that Tweek and Craig were not the only familiar faces in the bunch.

“Well shit, I don’t even know who it is but I’m kind of offended.” Stan feigned hurt as he put a hand over his chest for dramatic effect.

“Shut up, dude.” He snorted.

Stan stared for just a second too long, but just as Kyle was about to say something, he was saved by the waitress who had finally come back to the table.

“Sorry about the wait, as you can tell, things are a bit busy here. My name’s Camille and I’ll be your server today.” the brunette said with a toothy smile. “Can I get you both started with some drinks? We have our wine menu right here, if you’d like to take a look at that.”

“My friend here doesn’t drink, thanks though.” Kyle interjected.

“My apologies, we also have a large selection of mock-tails to choose from if you’re interested in that. The berry no-jito is my personal favorite, I love the whole berry-mint combo.” She continued and Stan and Kyle could hardly keep a straight face.

“Camille, if you were a few years older, I would have the perfect person to set you up with.” Stan’s voice quivered as he tried to conceal the laughter bubbling in the back of his throat.  

“Oh my god, you guys are a riot.” She cackled, “So about those drinks, what can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a sprite, please.” Kyle said politely.

“And can I just get a water?” Stan grinned.

“One sprite, one water, coming up!” Camille confirmed.

“Thank you Camille, you’re an angel!” Stan called after her.

Kyle laughed and rolled his eyes. “You’re a dad, dude.”

“What? I’m nice, why is that so wrong?” Stan argued defensively.

“It’s not wrong! It’s just funny, that’s all.”

“Well I’m glad you think so.” Stan sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Hey, Kyle, listen… There’s something I need to talk to you about, and I know it’s going to sound weird, but just hear me out.”

“Oh my god, there’s lasting damage, isn’t there?” Kyle’s voice was grim.

“What? No! Jesus Christ, Kyle, let me finish!”

“Sorry, sorry, my bad. Okay, go.” He said, beckoning him to continue.

“I told you, Kyle, I’m back. 100%, totally back. No brain damage, nothing, alright?”

“I trust you, you just scared me for a second there.”

Both were quiet for a moment before Stan reached over and put a hand over Kyle’s.

“I know.”

Camille returned just then carrying both cups. She placed the beverages on the table and wiped the condensation from her hands onto her apron.

“Have you decided about food yet or do you need another minute?” She asked, a subtle southern twang came through her plasticky “waitress” voice.

“I’m gonna get the fettuccini alfredo, no chicken please.” Kyle ordered.

“Family style or single portion?”

“Family style.” Stan interjected.

“Family style it is, and for you?” She said, turning to Stan.

“I think I’ll try the Sicilian Lamb Stew.” Stan ordered as he handed her the menu.

“Perfect, I’ll get those orders in right away. If you need anything, just give me a holler!” She chirped and moved back toward the kitchen counter.

Stan looked back at Kyle, who was staring at him with an expression fraught with concern.

“What? Is there something in my teeth?” He asked, his tongue coming up behind his upper lip to try and find the offending remnant of food.

“Stan, you _hate_ lamb…” Kyle muttered softly.

“What?”

“Yeah, lamb, veal, any kind of baby animal meat. You swore off it when you were ten when you kidnapped ten baby cows from a farm we went to on a class field trip.” Kyle’s brows furrowed in distress.

“Wow, yeah, I tried to become a vegetarian when we were locked in my room and I broke out into sores and everything.” Stan recalled, his expression falling. The despair in his eyes did not go unnoticed by Kyle.

“Hey, are you alright, dude?” Kyle asked tentatively.

“Yeah, I just… I guess I’m not 100% after all.” He muttered solemnly.

“Well hey, you know what, you’ve had nothing but hospital food and hooters for weeks now, I’m sure anything looks good to you, hunger can often make your mind foggy too. I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything.” Kyle reassured him with a comforting smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Stan nodded appreciatively, grateful that his pride and confidence in his sanity were spared in that moment. “Thanks, Kyle.”

“Anytime. Hey, so what was that thing you wanted to tell me about?” Kyle said, trying to move the conversation forward.

Stan paused, “Oh, that. You know what, it’s not important.” He dismissed with a chuckle.

“Come on, just tell me. I can take it.” Kyle encouraged. Stan looked at him and took a deep breath.

“I love you.” Stan watched as the shape of Kyle’s mouth flattened and his eyes grew wider. His heart pounded in his chest and he cleared his throat, “You know, like a brother. You saved my life, dude, you’re my best friend. I just want to say thank you, and you know, when you almost die, you get into that mindset where you just want to make sure everyone knows how much they mean to you.” He could only pray that by some miracle he responded quick enough for Kyle to believe him.

“I love you too, _bro_.” Kyle laughed in response as he leaned forward and gave Stan a playful punch on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’re super best friends, I know you care about me, and I care about you too. I’ve got your back.” Kyle shot him a reassuring grin.

Stan was beyond relieved. Kenny was right, there was a time and a place, and even if he never got there, being Kyle’s super best friend was plenty for now. Their time would come, but Stan still hoped that it would be sooner rather than later.

* * *

**_Two weeks later_ **

 

“Don’t be a dick, Stan.” Ike grumbled.

“What? I didn’t say anything!” Stan snapped at him.

“You’ve refused to speak for our last three meetings, that _you_ scheduled, by the way. If you’re here to waste my time then you’re acting like a dick, that’s just how it is.”

“Maybe I just don’t have anything to say.” Stan crossed his arms stubbornly.

“Stan-”

“No, maybe I just don’t feel the need to try and prove something to a fucking child.” Stan practically spat at him.

“I get it, Stan, I do.” Ike replied calmly,  “After so many years of “kick the baby”, you’re having trouble accepting the fact that I’m all grown up and in a position of authority.”

“Maybe I just feel like I don’t need to justify my sanity to someone who can’t even vote.”

“I can vote, Stan. I have a PhD and a law degree, I’ve passed the bar and I’m at the top of my field. The sooner you decide to cooperate, the sooner I can clear you as fit for duty.” Ike was tired, this scenario played out too many times and it had gotten really old really fast.

“Oh, I see what’s going on here.” Stan’s lips curled into a smirk.

“And what is that, Stan?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose exasperatedly.

“You need me to buy you beer. Gonna have a party at mom and dad’s? Trying to throw a kegger for your little preschool friends?” Stan snickered, puffing his chest out.

“Alright, that’s it. If you’re just here to waste my time, I’m going to put in a report saying that you’re far from ready. You can leave now.” Ike stood up and walked to the door, holding it open for Stan.

“What- Ike, no wait. I’m sorry, I’m sorry alright?”

“Are you going to take this seriously now?” Ike sounded like a frustrated elementary school teacher and crossing his arms completed the visual.

“As a bullet to the brain.” Stan swore, throwing up the scouts honor sign.

Ike was not amused.

“No, it’s funny see because I-”

“I get it.”

“Listen, I’m just really eager to get back in the field. I need this. Badly. And if you don’t clear me, I’m almost positive that Clyde’s going to kill himself.” Stan was near pleading.

“I know you do, and I’m here to help you. You have to understand though that after what you went through and everything that happened in your last case, it’s crucial that you’re at least open to try and change.” Ike returned to his seat and leaned forward to level with Stan.

“Alright, I will. I’ll stick with Kyle, we’ll give the whole ‘partners’ thing a shot, and we’ll do everything by the book, word for word.”

“Good.” Ike cracked a smile.

“So as long as he’s with me, I can go back to work?” Stan batted his eyes, as if trying to charm the man sitting across from him.

“That’s a part of it.”

“What’s the other part?” Stan asked, almost afraid of the answer he was going to get.

“You’ll be seeing a psychologist at least once a week to keep track of your mental health. You suffered a devastating brain injury and I’m honestly baffled how you survived and made a seemingly full recovery. We just need to monitor it. Do you agree to those terms?” Ike pulled a form from the file in front of him and slid it across the desk to Stan.

“Seeing a shrink and hanging out with my best friend? Yeah I think I can manage.” Stan scoffed and grabbed a pen from the stainless steel cup in the corner of the table.

“It’s called ‘work’, Stan, not hanging out. This isn’t a game, and if you let my brother get hurt out there, I’ll put a bullet in your head myself, and I’ll make sure you don’t get so lucky then. Am I clear?”

“Sir, yes sir.” Stan nodded and crossed the T in his name.

 

Clyde was going to be ecstatic.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it once and I'll say it again, comments are my life force and they drive me to put out content like nothing else so please let me know what you think, what you'd like to see, and any other input you may have. Have a lovely day!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't proofread this one, so I'll probably end up editing later and fixing it up. But I hope you guys enjoy and stick around for more!

Clyde had, for some time, been envious of Stan’s position in the department. The prestige, the paycheck and getting first pick on which cases to take on sounded like a dream, he had even scheduled his promotional exam so he could start climbing the ranks. After just over two months of walking in Stan’s shoes, Clyde was certain that he would rather jump off a bridge into a pile of rusty rebar and jagged rocks than ever sit down to take that test. He was overworked, overwhelmed, underpaid and underappreciated. When he heard of Stan’s impending return, he nearly lost consciousness due to pure, unadulterated joy.

Seeing Clyde chipper and smiling for the first time since the media grew tired of the heroism he displayed during Tweek’s rescue was the dead giveaway that alerted the rest of the department of their lead detective’s homecoming. Dougie O’Connell was the first to take notice when the particularly cheery cop pranced into the morgue.

“Good morning, Dougie, my favorite medical examiner!” Clyde was practically singing, and Dougie half expected bluebirds to be flying in behind him chirping their own little harmonies.

“Have some respect, this is a fucking morgue.” Dougie grumbled as he picked up a clipboard from one of the autopsy tables.

“Right, sorry. Ah..” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Good morning, Dr. O’Connell.”

“Good morning. What’s with the...joy?” Dougie’s tone made it clear that he really could not be less interested. “Are you high or something?”

“What? No! I’m not high, Dougie!” Clyde scoffed and crossed his arms. “I’ve got some fantastic news though-”

“Stan’s coming back.”

“Stan’s- Hey wait, how’d you know?”

“Well if you’re not high and you’re not coming in here to cry again, that must mean you’re out of the job.” Dougie looked back up from the clipboard.

“Well you don’t seem too excited.” Clyde huffed, but then his eyes softened. “Oh Dougie, you’re gonna miss me aren’t you? Is that why you’re so sad?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Dougie retorted. “All of you are the same to me, testosterone, sunglasses and bad jokes you ripped off from the same television network. Nothing special there.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a real stick in the mud?” Clyde pouted as he leaned on one of the slabs.

“Why are you here, Clyde? I know you didn’t just stop by to bid me farewell even though I’ll still see you almost every day.”

“Believe it or not, Morticia, I’m a real boy with a heart and even though we’re in the same building, I’m not ever going to be working this closely with you again. Aren’t you at least a little bummed?” Clyde was nearly pouting and Dougie just rolled his eyes.

“Sure. I’m devastated. Can I get back to work now?”

“Alright, sour puss. I’ll send Stan down when he gets here.” Clyde saluted as he left the basement morgue and went back upstairs to the main levels of the station.

Stan and Kyle were just walking in when Clyde reached ground level. Other officers were flocking over to the duo and welcoming them back. He rushed to the kitchen and pulled out the cake he had gotten specifically for the occasion.

“WELCOME BACK!” He shouted from down the hall as he jogged over to them, cake in hand.

“Clyde, you have a cake.” Stan pointed out, an awkward, confused smile on his face.

“Yes, yes I do, just for you.” Clyde announced joyfully. “Because you are back and you’re going to promise to never make me fill in for you ever again.”

Stan threw his head back in laughter, the confirmation of all the misery he heard about second-hand from Kyle was the greatest gift he could have asked for. He took the cake from the excited cop’s hands and thanked him.

“I’m diabetic.” Kyle pointed out.

“You’re also not the one that left me for two months.” Clyde dismissed him and Stan snorted.

“What? Yes I-”

“Just drop it, Kyle. Look at him, he’s so happy.” Stan cooed.

“You know what, I can see that you’re trying to embarrass me but it’s not gonna work because I am not ashamed to admit that I’ve been through fucking hell and I’m never ever ever going to have to do that shit again.” Clyde scoffed and grabbed his windbreaker from the coathanger by the door.

“Wait, where are you going? You’re just going to give him a cake and leave?” Kyle asked.

“Yep. I’m going on parking duty. I’m going to play a good game of meter maid and give tickets to unsuspecting shoppers in CtPaTown and it’s going to be nice and boring.” Clyde announced happily. Stan was positive that no police officer had ever been that excited over what was arguably the most mundane aspect of the job.

“You have fun, buddy.” Stan gave him a nod of encouragement, still holding the cake in his arms.

“I will.” He said with confidence. “Oh, and you’ve got a body by the way. You might want to go tell Dougie, the information’s on your desk.” Clyde mentioned before rushing out the door.

“Huh.” Stan muttered to himself as he began making his way over to his office. “First day back and already we’ve got a case. Isn’t that lucky?”

Kyle opened the door to the office for him and they deposited the cake onto the desk. Amongst the mounds of paperwork was a pink post it note with the words “Splatty tomato, SoDoSoPa, McCormick yard”. Stan snatched it and looked it over.

“Ha. Gotta love that attention to detail.” He muttered sarcastically.

“Splatty tomato?” Kyle asked, his brows furrowing in a mix of concern and confusion.

“I guess we’ll see when we get there. Are you up for that?” Stan asked, putting a hand on Kyle’s shoulder.

“What? Yeah, dude. I’m a big boy, I can handle a body.” Kyle shrugged him off, “Come on, let’s get going.”

“You got it, partner.” Stan spoke with his best impersonation of a cowboy-style southern drawl. Kyle rolled his eyes and snickered sarcastically as he walked out the door.

* * *

Kenny moved into the PC Delta house for a short stint right after high school, but later somehow managed to secure ownership of the old Stupid Spoiled Whore store in the South Park Mall. Apparently the language in the zoning documentation had been just ambiguous enough for him to pull off such a stunt. He had since renovated and made it his own little home in the center of the plaza, but he still insisted on retaining the hot pink sign hanging above the door. Karen took a different route after graduating, she managed to secure herself a full ride to Princeton for computer engineering; the whole town was beyond proud of their own little underdog. She was set to change the world.

Then there was Kevin, the last McCormick child to live in the family home; his tale wasn’t quite so inspiring or laughable. For a number of years, Kevin struggled to fight the same demons that haunted his parents: drugs, alcohol, addiction overall. It wasn’t until his father passed away that he was able to take control of his life and get the help he needed. Kevin and Stan actually attended the same AA group for quite some time, though he stopped showing up out of nowhere. The group just assumed he had fallen off the rails again.

When Stan and Kyle arrived on the scene, three other patrol cars were already there and officers were in the process of blocking everything off from the public. Stan flashed his badge and the pair were granted access to view the body.

“A-Aww!” Stan grimaced as he turned away from the display. “Can someone please get the rats out of here? Jesus Christ!” He called to the forensics team.

“Splatty tomato, I think I get it.” Kyle croaked as he covered his mouth with his sleeve.

“Dude are you gonna puke? Because if you puke on the evidence, I’m pretty sure we’re gonna get in trouble again and Clyde will never forgive us.” Stan teased.

“No, I’m fine. I just...wasn’t expecting the smell, I guess.” Kyle shook his head and took a breath, refusing to breathe in through his nose from then on. “Remember when we used to work with burglars and petty theft? Maybe the occasional drug dealer to spice it up?”

Stan snorted. “Oh you sheltered little boy. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it soon enough.”

“What?”

“Believe it or not, this is the kind of stuff I do regularly. Technically, my specialty as a detective is homicide.” Stan said as he took out a pocket-sized pad of paper to take notes on the scene.

“For real, dude? How did I not know about that?” Kyle was baffled by the revelation.

“I guess I never thought to mention it, all homicides went to the D.A.’s office directly and I guess everything else was just open and shut, you know, suicide, natural causes, whatever.” Stan shrugged as he stepped closer to the mangled body at the base of the abandoned pavillion.

“That can’t be right, I know for a fact I worked a homicide case with you.” Kyle swore, trying to banish any feelings of guilt over not knowing what his best friend did for a living.

“Yeah, the Trent Boyett case way back when you worked with the D.A., but since you came back to town…” Stan trailed off as he bent down to inspect a metallic glint amongst the snow.

“Holy shit, dude. That was ages ago.”

“Yeah, but don’t get weird about it or anything, I’ve always been pretty desensitized to this stuff. Will someone _please_ come take these rats?!” He demanded as he whipped his head around to bark at the forensic team.

“I won’t get weird about it, I’m just, how can you just ignore that smell?” Kyle wrinkled his nose as a gentle breeze wafted the horrific stench of decay toward him.

“Ah, you’ll get used to it, rookie.” Stan laughed. “You’re in my wheelhouse now.”

“Actually, you’re in mine.” Kevin emerged from the door with a grin.

“Holy shit, Kevin?” Stan stood up and made his way over to him.

“In the flesh.” He replied with a chuckle.

“Where have you been, man? The guys have been worried about you.” Stan said with a grin. Kyle watched the exchange in awe, he had no idea that the two ever spoke beyond a casual nod of acknowledgement when they used to come visit Kenny as kids. It almost pained him as he learned that there was so much that he never knew about his best friend.

“Well you can tell them they don’t have to worry. I’ll be nine years sober in May.” He announced proudly as he pulled a carton of cigarettes from his pocket.

“That’s amazing, dude. You should come back and say hi sometime.” Stan gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “And you shouldn’t smoke those things, they’ll give you cancer, you know.” He teased.

“One vice at a time, man.” Kevin chuckled. “So the body, is he gonna be cleaned up soon?”

“We’re just waiting on the coroner to get here and we’ll be out of your hair.” Stan assured him. “So I take it you’re the one that called it in?”

“Yes sir, I was taking out the trash for Ma in there, come out and there’s just a rat orgy going on right here on the driveway.” He clicked his tongue. “And I made sure not to touch anything, I watch CSI a lot so I know better.”

“Good call on that. Hey, you see that officer over there? The blonde?” Stan whistled to get the officer’s attention. “He’s going to take your statement while we finish up over here. If we need anything else, I’ll give you a call.”

Kevin nodded and gave them a wave before making his way over to the man. Finally, a duo of techs came over to the body and collected the rats. Stan returned to the body and knelt down to get a closer look.

“Finally, thank god.” Stan muttered to himself.

“Any ideas?” Kyle asked, keeping his distance.

“Clothes look pretty cheap and dirty, probably some transient. There’s a lot of them that squat around here when it gets too cold out.” Stan suggested.

“So what, you’re thinking suicide?”

“Hell if I know, Dougie’s gonna have to confirm cause of death but judging from what I’m seeing, that’s what it’s looking like. If not, maybe he was just intoxicated and stumbled off the terrace up there.” He said as he pointed his pen up to the broken glass barrier above them.

“So as of right now, your theory is that this was an accident or self-inflicted, no foul play?” Kyle asked, unable to hide the hopeful intonation in his voice.

“As of right now, yes. But again, the coroner’s gonna have to confirm everything first before I can make a solid determination.” He said. Once again, something caught his eye in the snow, some kind of metal was buried beneath the powder. “Can I get some gloves over here?” Stan called out.

“What? Did you find something?” Kyle asked as one of the techs came over and delivered a pair of latex gloves.

“I don’t know…” Stan muttered softly as he slipped on the gloves and brushed the snow away to see a briefcase with a clear bullet-hole going right through the center.

“What the hell?” Kyle whispered as he moved closer to get a look at the case.

“You better not have touched any of my remains.” Dougie threatened as he approached the scene.

“Nope, we behaved, we know better, Doug.” Stan said as he stood up, the case still in his hand.

“Good. Oh, and welcome back, Stan.” He replied curtly as he ducked to inspect the body further. A forensic tech soon came and gave Stan an evidence bag for the case. Once it was properly packaged and loaded back into the truck, an alarm on Stan’s phone went off.

“Shit.” He muttered before looking back up at Kyle. “Congratulations, partner, we get to leave early.”  
“What? Why?” Kyle asked as he started speedwalking toward Stan’s vehicle.

“I’ve got an appointment and you’re not supposed to be in the field without me. Damn, dude, someone’s eager.”

“Sorry I don’t want to hang around the body and Dougie, I just had plans for lunch.” Kyle retorted.

“Like a date?”

“No, just plans to eat, and the longer I stay, the less likely the possibility is that I’ll ever be able to do that again. So I am definitely ready to get going.”

Stan chuckled and unlocked the car to let him inside. Once they were settled and on the road, Kyle was finally recovering from the corpse-induced nausea that plagued him.

“So what’s this mysterious appointment you have to get to?” Kyle asked as he cracked open the window.

“Your brother’s making me see a shrink.” Stan grumbled. “I have to go at least once a week until Ike’s satisfied I guess.”

“Do you know who it is?”

“Nope, but I guess I’ll find out.” Stan sighed.

* * *

Waiting rooms were like purgatory, and oddly enough, it was those outdated, poorly decorated little lobbies that made Stan cringe with anxiety. This one was different, Stan couldn’t decide whether it was better or worse than others he had experienced because there was no decorations in sight, only a mute receptionist behind a window with a single half-torn happy-face sticker glued onto the glass. At least other offices tried to make the environment feel a little more welcoming, but this one was just like stepping into some kind of blank void. Before the madness could fully set in, the white-painted steel door opened and the identity of the mysterious therapist was finally revealed.

“Holy shit.” Stan muttered to himself.

Standing before him was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a suit so neatly pressed it almost appeared to have been made for a paper doll. His skin looked naturally pale but just so happened to have a gentle touch of a sun-kissed glow that was perfectly complemented by his neatly combed mane of chestnut. The man looked like a piece of fine art that had just stepped into reality. Stan was flustered.

“Stan Marsh.” He greeted with a kind smile. “Long time, no see.”

“DogPoo?!” Stan was flabbergasted, had he known that the ratty kid from his school years would have cleaned up so nicely, there was no way DogPoo would have lost their little fourth-friend competition.

“It’s actually Dr. Petuski now, but yes.” DogPoo chuckled.

“Oh- of course yeah! Wow, you’re a shrink now?” Stan stood up and made his way over to the doctor who was holding the door open for him.

“Yes, it’s one of my many specialties, but at the moment it is the one in highest demand.” The doctor ushered Stan into the small office which, in contrast to the waiting room, was lavishly decorated with fine art covering the walls. Stan immediately felt more at ease.

“So I guess now you’re... _Doc_ Poo.” Stan tried to joke, but when he noticed that it didn’t go over as well as he hoped, he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sorry, I’m just a little nervous.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first to make that joke, trust me. Please, have a seat, make yourself comfortable.” He said politely as he settled into his own plush leather chair.

“Nice office you got here, all the decor must have cost you a fortune.” Stan said as he lowered into the couch.

“It certainly did, but I like to think it was worth it to be able to be surrounded by such beauty day in and day out.” DogPoo sighed fondly as he glanced over his collection. “So before we begin, I’d like to just make sure that you’re comfortable with me acting as your therapist. Considering we have a history, I just want you to know that if you decide that you’d rather see someone else, that is perfectly acceptable and I will personally arrange that on your behalf.”

“What? No, it’s fine, it’s kind of nice to see a familiar face, actually.” Stan said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just not really used to the whole therapy thing in general.”

“Oh?” DogPoo asked as he grabbed a note pad from his desk.

“Well, one-on-one anyway.”

“I see. Well don’t worry, Stan. I am here to help, everything we discuss in here is confidential and free of judgement, and I want you to know that during our sessions, you don’t have to discuss anything beyond the realm of your comfort. If I overstep my bounds at any point in time, please do not hesitate to tell me and I will correct myself.”  His voice was sincere, and already Stan could tell that DogPoo landed in the perfect profession.

“Thanks, that’s really comforting. Wow, I gotta say, you clean up nice, Doc.” Stan grinned as he leaned back into the couch, his muscles slowly beginning to relax.

“I’m flattered you think so. Would you like to begin?” He asked as he clicked his pen.

Stan hesitated and took a deep breath before nodding his head. “Sure.”

“Splendid. So tell me a bit about yourself.”

“Don’t you have a little file with all that information already?”

“Yes, but I’d prefer to hear it from you. Words on paper can often be unreliable and easily misinterpreted.” DogPoo said, putting the pen down in his lap.

“Okay, well, as you know, my name is Stan Marsh, I’m a detective for the South Park Police Department. I live at-”

“I apologize for the interruption, but I’m afraid that’s not what I’m looking for. You see, what you’re telling me, those are just facts, I want to know more about who you are, not just what. Does that make sense?” His tone was not condescending or rude, but nevertheless, it instilled a great amount of uneasiness in Stan. He didn’t know how to answer that question, and the pressure caused all coherent thoughts on his own identity to escape him.

“Yeah… I do.” Stan said after a moment before taking a deep breath. He was anxious, the harder he thought about it, the more blanks he was drawing. But in the back of his mind, a voice reminded him that he had, in fact, done this before, and he could answer in the only way he knew how. “My name’s Stan, and I’m an alcoholic.”

DogPoo was fascinated by the approach, he lifted a hand and beckoned him to continue. Stan looked down and fished a blue metal token out of his coat pocket and began flipping it in his hands.

“I’m going to be five years sober in two weeks, there’s gonna be a party and cake and sparkling cider, and everyone’s going to congratulate me and tell me that I’m strong and brave and my efforts didn’t go unnoticed.” He smiled to himself. “I’m going to invite my best friend in the world and it’s going to be a great time.”

“That is very exciting, congratulations, Stan. Is your friend going to be your only guest?” DogPoo asked as he slowly reached to grab his pen to begin taking notes.

“Yeah, he’s kind of the only one that matters. My dad, he’s… He’s an alcoholic too and I’m pretty sure he’ll step into a grave before an AA meeting, and my mom, she doesn’t know about any of it.”

“You’re afraid she’ll compare you to your father?” DogPoo inferred and Stan hung his head low before giving a small nod of affirmation.

“She doesn’t need that kind of stress in her life. I’m her golden boy, I don’t want to taint that.”

“That’s entirely reasonable, Stan. I’d do the same in your shoes, but if she was aware, I’m sure she would be extremely proud of how far you’ve come.” DogPoo told him and Stan felt like he could shed a tear in that moment. Seeing this, the doctor redirected the conversation, “Now, if you’re comfortable, I’d like to discuss the neurological trauma you suffered.”

“The gunshot. Yeah, that was… an ordeal.” Stan sniffed and cleared his throat, trying to regain his general air of masculinity.

“Actually, I’m more interested in the two-week coma you were in.”

“Oh, wow, yeah, okay. What about it?” Stan asked, adjusting his posture.

“ Your previous doctor had released some of his notes to me from the evaluations he had done during your recovery. Some of the events you had recounted are quite interesting.”

“Listen, Doc, I’m fine. I’m good, totally back to normal. I had a little bit of confusion for a second there, but like I’m sure it says in the file, I’m totally rehabilitated.” Stan insisted.

“I don’t doubt that for a bit, I’d just like to know a bit more of what you had felt during the whole experience, again, from your perspective rather than a neurologist’s shorthand.”

“Why is that important? It doesn’t matter, like I said, I’m good.” He snapped.

“Well if you don’t wish to discuss it, then I won’t press the issue further. I apologize for-”

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter because I know that it was all fake. Kyle and I are not together, I don’t have a dog, and I live in a loft that I can barely afford as is. It was just a dream that I had because I heard him talking or something and one too many romcoms aired on the TV in my room. That’s it.” Stan said, crossing his arms in frustration.

“I see. So just to clarify, in this dream, you were romantically involved with your partner?” DogPoo asked, his voice careful and calm.

“Yes, but that’s all it was, a dream. Just like I said.”

They were both quiet for a moment, the doctor tried to read his expression and assess the situation.

“Do you miss it?” He asked softly.

“It wasn’t real.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

Stan paused for a moment, trying to determine just how much to share. “Everything we say here is totally confidential?”

“That’s correct.”

Stan nodded slowly and took a deep breath. “Well then, yeah, I guess, certain aspects of it were nice. I miss the shower, oof, that shower. It was one of those rain shower heads, it was incredible.”

“And that’s all you long for from that alternate life? The shower?”

“Yep, that’s it.”

“And there are absolutely no residual romantic feelings for your partner at all whatsoever?” DogPoo asked, his stare boring into Stan’s eyes as if he were trying to look into his very soul.

“He’s my best friend, Doc.” Stan said confidently.

“Once again, that’s not the question.”

“Kyle doesn’t do the whole dating thing, he thinks monogamous relationships are all doomed to fail and romantic connections are just a distraction.” Stan said, shrugging his shoulders. DogPoo gave him a look, and Stan knew that he wouldn’t be able to dodge the question again. He sighed, “Yeah, there’s feelings there. But like I said, he’s my best friend and now, my partner, it’s for the best that I just leave it alone for now until we both get settled.”

The doctor grinned, “So you intend to tell him of your newfound affections?”

“Of course,” Stan said. “I just need to make sure that I do this right, you know?”

“I do. And I think it is very healthy and admirable of you to take your time in this matter, acting impulsively can sometimes ruin any chance for genuine happiness.”

“Tell me about it.” Stan said with a hearty chuckle.

“Would it be alright if I gave you some insight?” He asked politely.

“Sure.”

“Well, when I was appointed to your case, I was also given Kyle Broflovski’s file, I am to follow your progress and monitor your compatibility as partners in the professional field. From what I’ve gathered, Kyle is a very analytical, temperamental, and overall very guarded person.” He began.

“Absolutely.” Stan confirmed.

“That being said, if anything were to happen, you are going to be the one to initiate the relationship. Your partner isn’t a risk-taker, he’s not likely to step even five feet near the border of his comfort zone, so it would need to be you. But with that comes a certain level of responsibility, you see, if you manage to get him to take that leap of faith, you need to be certain because the damage that would come when he hits the ground could be catastrophic for him.” He warned. Stan nodded slowly, taking it all in.

“So it’s all or nothing.” Stan said to himself.

“Precisely. I urge you to take the time you need to consider all the possible outcomes before pursuing any sort of change in dynamic. For his sake as well as your own.”

“Well, Doc. I’m all in, but yeah, I’ll give it time.” Stan promised.

Stan’s phone had impeccable timing, going off just as he wanted to shut the door on the conversation. He pulled it from his pocket and saw that it was Dougie calling from the station. He looked up at the doctor with apologetic eyes, and in return, DogPoo closed the file and nodded, silently granting him permission to take the call and end their session early.

* * *

It was no secret that Craig and Tweek had reconciled following the amazing rescue, but behind closed doors, the problems and issues they faced didn’t just disappear. When a relationship ends, even if it’s temporary, hearts are broken and though they may heal, they can never be unbroken; there’s a trust that’s violated and only time can help. The pair hadn’t spent a single night together since Tweek recovered, and that meant that Craig was left to stay long-term at the Komfort Inn. They were going to take it slow, per Tweek’s request, and that meant both their respective living places (temporary as Craig’s may have been) were absolutely off-limits. This left them with another big problem: their lack of a public dwelling space, a pressure-free location to spend their time. Since the Harbucks takeover of Tweak Coffee, South Park’s favorite couple was left without a public date venue. Their first and most promising candidate for a temporary substitute was Mick’s Bowling Alley.

“Look, Craig, they’re hiring.” Tweek mentioned through gritted teeth as he pointed over to the boldly displayed ‘Help Wanted’ poster behind the bar by the soda machine. He had long since grown out of the frantic scream-talking tendencies he had since childhood, but he never could quite shake the habit of grinding his teeth around the clock. Craig had come up with a solution, but it was more than a treatment than a cure.

“You’re going to get lockjaw again.” Craig mumbled as he pulled a pack of gum out of his pocket and handed a piece over to the blonde beside him. “And I get the hint, but I’m not going to work at a bowling alley.”

“Thanks…” He said as he popped the spearmint strip into his mouth. “Do you have any kind of job prospects yet? Your savings have to be running low by now.”

“Well… I’ve been considering something, but you know, it’s still kind of up in the air.” Craig said, his voice as gentle and delicate as possible.

“What is it Craig?” Tweek asked, already getting the sense that he was not going to like the idea.

“I’ve been considering joining the police academy.” Craig muttered quietly, already tensing up in preparation for the reaction he was about to get.

“...I hear this place has great benefits.” Tweek replied, refusing to meet his eye.

“Tweek-”

“You’re not becoming a police officer, Craig! Do you realize how dangerous that job is?! The kind of pressure that job entails?!”

“Yes, but just-”

“The answer is no, Craig, that’s it!” Tweek shouted.

The two went quiet when they noticed that they had attracted the eyes of many nosy onlookers. They sank into their booth by the snack bar until the attention was finally diverted away from them.

“Babe, listen, I have a college degree, I’m qualified, physically fit, I can take care of myself.” Craig insisted in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, I’m sure Stan thought the same thing and he got shot in the fucking head!” Tweek whispered frantically.

“But look at Clyde, he’s making good money by handing out parking tickets, the likelihood of me getting shot in the field in South Park is miniscule at best.” Craig argued. “I’d be a traffic cop, not a SWAT team member.”

“How much does that job pay? I’ll pay double for you to not become a cop.” Tweek was nearly begging.

“Come on, you don’t have that kind of money.” Craig sighed.

“Yes, I do, and do you know how I got it?” Tweek asked. “I got it because the police _shot_ my mother and I got a payout from her life insurance!”

“Honey…” Craig said quietly. “I know that it’s hard for you, but you need to see that she tried to _kill_ you. She almost murdered you, and if it weren’t for the police, you’d be dead right now.”

“You can’t know that-”  
“Yes, I can, Tweek. You were going to die, that’s not an opinion, that’s a fact. She was not going to come back for you.” Craig stated plainly. “I want to do this because then I will have all the knowledge I need to protect you and make sure that those situations never happen ever again.”

Tweek refused to look Craig in the eye, he couldn’t refute the intention, no matter how much the prospects scared him. They sat in silence for some time, only the sound of birthday parties and pins clattering against one another filled their ears.

“Is this something you want?” Tweek finally asked, his hands still shaking with anxiety.

“It is.” Craig said softly, his eyes glued to the table.

“And you’re comfortable with putting me through that?” Tweek’s voice had a hint of spite to it and Craig took a deep breath to tame the impulse to make a snide comeback.

“I have faith that you can adapt better than you give yourself credit for. I feel more comfortable knowing that for a little while you’ll be afraid for me than being helpless and clueless when it comes to protecting you.”

“Is that really how you feel? Helpless?” Tweek finally looked up, the word sparking a hint of familiarity in him.

“Yes.” Craig said, meeting his eyes.

“I feel helpless all the time, Craig.” Tweek admitted, though both knew that it was no secret. “I know that it’s difficult, and that it hurts more than anything. If there was something I could do to make it go away, then I wouldn’t think twice.”

“Are you giving me your blessing?” Craig asked, reaching forward to offer his hand to the other.

“I’m saying that I understand.” Tweek said, slowly bringing up his hand to Craig’s. “And that I’ll always feel helpless, and if this works and makes you feel less helpless, then that’s less helplessness between us, which is better.”

“And maybe knowing that I’m capable of protecting you and that I’ll be making the world safer for you will make you feel a little less helpless too.” Craig gently squeezed his hand.

“Or it’ll make it worse.”

“Okay, well I’ll make you a deal then.” Craig sat up straighter and cleared his throat. “If at any point in time, you decide that it’s too much then I’ll quit, no questions asked, and I’ll come work for you at Harbucks, or here at the bowling alley, wherever you want.”

Tweek couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’ll just… leave? Because I ask?”

“Without a second thought.” Craig promised.

It took a moment for Tweek to consider and process everything. Since their reconciliation, they had not discussed much of anything deeper than a surface level. This was the first big talk that they had since deciding that they’d give their relationship another chance and both of them had been left emotionally drained.

“Then you should do it.” Tweek said, nodding his head. “And I think if you’re willing to go through all that training, reshape your whole life, and work for Stan Marsh just to keep me safe, then that can only mean you’re really serious about this.”

In truth, Craig had never considered the fact that Stan would be his superior, but he couldn’t exactly take back the offer after all that build-up. However, Tweek wasn’t wrong, and while that may be one major annoyance, he was serious about him and their relationship, and his ego was not about to get in the way of ensuring the safety of the one he loved.

“I am.” Craig said confidently.

“Let’s go home, Craig.” Tweek said with a half-smile.

Craig never spent another night at the Komfort Inn.

* * *

Stan and Kyle once again found themselves in their own little holy land at the crack of dawn. All around them everything was changing and it felt as though the ground beneath their feet was shifting quicker than either could keep up with; mornings at the Village Inn were the last constants in either of their lives.

“Dougie got an ID on our guy from SoDoSoPa.” Stan mentioned as he stirred his coffee.

“That was fast, I thought these things took longer.” Kyle said, stirring the sugar into his own coffee.

“Typically they would, but he was local and had a criminal record, so his fingerprints were already on file.” Stan said as he pulled a file from his bag. “William George Miller, also known as Billy Miller, age 31.”

“Billy Miller, if I remember right, his whole family’s wealthy, what was he doing in SoDoSoPa?” Kyle asked as he picked up the file Stan slid his way.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to find out.” Stan said as he leaned back and sunk into the booth. “I’m thinking that he’s loaded, maybe he went out that way to find some nose candy or designer drugs.”

“No.” Kyle said, shaking his head.

“What makes you say that?”

“Billy’s mother was killed in a dealing bust when he was only ten, that’s a kind of trauma you don’t just forget about or move on from.”

“So what you’re saying is he didn’t get back on the same horse that trampled his mom.” Stan said, clicking his tongue in thought.

“Exactly. He wasn’t there to buy or sell drugs, you’d be better off looking at where he could have been going or coming from that meant he had to pass Kenny’s house.” Kyle said, returning the folder to him.

“But Kenny’s place is on the edge of town, and he fell from the second level of the old pavillion, it doesn’t make sense.” Stan argued as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Maybe he was running from someone.” Kyle said with a shrug, “But can’t we go over this at work? You know, where we’re paid to do this?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, right. So how was your night?” Stan asked as he put the file back into his case.

“It was nice, I went out and got dinner with Ike.” Kyle told him. “How about you, how was therapy?”

“Dude, you’d never believe who the shrink was.” Stan was bubbling with excitement.

“Who?”

“DogPoo Petuski.”

“What? Seriously?” Kyle was just as shocked as Stan was when he first saw him.

“Crazy, right? But what’s even crazier is that he actually cleans up really _really_ nice.” Stan said. “Like, he’s hot, dude. And he’s a great therapist, he doesn’t make me feel like a crazy person when I’m talking to him.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were into the guy or something.” Kyle retorted.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stan asked, his tone almost defensive.

“You’re joking, right?” Kyle asked, the atmosphere rapidly changing to one of intense awkwardness.

“I, yeah, but don’t be so quick to assume things, Kyle. Sexuality is a spectrum, anyone could fall anywhere on that.” Stan said as he took another swig from his coffee mug.

“I know, dude, I just never thought you were anywhere even near the middle.” Kyle said quietly.

“I don’t know, I’ve got an open mind.” Stan shrugged. “Just like you, I mean, you’re gay but you’ve had feelings for girls before.”

“Okay, but are you trying to tell me you’ve got the hots for DogPoo?”

“What? No! I’m just saying, if I had feelings for someone that happened to be a man, it would be just as valid even though in the past, I’ve only ever been with women.” Stan explained, trying to backtrack.

“Well shit, dude.” Kyle sounded angry. “Just how much is there that I don’t know about you?”

“What?” Stan asked, utterly blindsided by the sudden shift.

“Yesterday at the crime scene, you treated the body like it was nothing and I find out for the first time that dead bodies are part of your usual routine and you just never thought to mention that, then you go off and come out to Kenny-”  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Stan interjected. “What the hell did Kenny tell you?”

“Nothing, he just-” Kyle began, immediately regretting his outburst.

“Kyle, I swear to god, what did Kenny say to you?”

“He just said that you told him about your coma and that you had a sex dream about a guy, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Kyle said quietly. “But that’s all he said, he didn’t give any details or anything.”

“So he didn’t tell you who it was about?” Stan pressed further.

Kyle was quiet.

“Son of a bitch.” Stan muttered in disbelief.

“Stan, listen, Kenny didn’t have to tell me. I knew, alright? I knew.” Kyle insisted.

“What?”

“But we can talk later, like you said, this is holy land, we shouldn’t-”

“Oh no, it’s too late for that, we’re having this conversation right here, right now.” Stan was firm in his tone.

Kyle sighed, “Alright, I was there with you during your coma, I stayed in the room every night, and only ever left when your parents came to visit. Sometimes you’d mumble incoherent words or sounds, but there was one night where you said my name. I thought you were waking up so I looked up and I realized you were...pitching a tent.”

“Oh my god.” Stan was mortified. The waitress, with her ever-perfect timing, delivered their plates to the table.

“Listen, it’s not a big deal, it’s totally normal.” Kyle tried to explain. “Like you said, it’s a spectrum, Stan, and plus, just because you had a dream it doesn’t mean you’re-”

“Kyle, just stop. Please.” Stan said as he sighed and picked up his fork. “It was a dream, I know this, it wasn’t real and I’d really appreciate it if you could just drop it.”

Kyle nodded and said nothing further. For the first time, the two ate their meals in complete silence.

* * *

When they arrived at the station, Dougie’s comprehensive report of the body was packaged neatly on Stan’s desk. Billy’s death was officially ruled a homicide, and the cause of death was found to be a gunshot wound that severed the femoral artery. Apparently, that was just one of the four bullets he had taken before falling into the snow and bleeding out.

“What does it say?” Kyle asked as he sat in the chair across the desk from Stan.

“See for yourself.” He said as he passed the report over to him. “He didn’t fall from the second level after all, the glass that we found fell on him after he died.”

“If the glass broke after the fact, doesn’t that mean that someone must have found him before Kevin?” Kyle questioned as he flipped through the photos taken at the crime scene.

“Huh, good point.” Stan muttered. “There are a lot of squatters in the area, maybe someone broke it and didn’t have access to a phone to call it in, or maybe they were just too afraid to do anything about it.”

“Didn’t you find it a little weird that there weren’t any homeless people around when we got there?”

“Sometimes they’ll scatter when they see a patrol car, but I’ll get some people to look into it. In the meantime, we should go check out his place and see if we can find anything.” Stan stood up and grabbed his coat.

“What? But we just got here, shouldn’t we check in with the crime lab, see if they got anything from that briefcase you found?” Kyle lamented, not moving from his seat.

“Shit, the briefcase.” Stan could hardly believe he forgot. “Yeah, lets go check on that.”

* * *

After consulting with the crime lab and Dougie once again, they had compiled a considerable amount of information. While the briefcase had not yet been opened, they were able to pull prints from the handle, some matching the victim, but the others were so far unidentified. It also came to light that the victim had been missing his shoes, but particulate evidence showed that he was wearing high-quality, genuine leather loafers at the time of his death. The team was also able to recover all seven bullets from the scene, it showed that the murder weapon was a 10mm handgun, and ballistics was expected to have the gun’s exact make and model sometime soon.

In Billy’s house, the pair found their first lead: Luigi “Loogie” Belzer, a fairly well-known mobster in Park County. However, when they returned to the police station once again to try and track him down, the parking lot was already swarming with nicer vehicles than local police could afford.

“What the hell is going on?” Stan mumbled as he turned the corner.

“Those are FBI squad cars.” Kyle said, sitting up straighter. “What are they doing here?”

“Shit. I think I know.” Stan grumbled as he pulled into the lot and parked on the curb right outside the entrance.

Inside, there was at least a dozen agents in suits seizing all the evidence they had gathered from the crime scene.

“Hey! Hey, everybody stop!” Stan shouted over the chaos. “Will someone tell me what the FUCK is happening here?!”

A woman in a nicely pressed pantsuit approached him, and Stan could hardly believe his eyes when he recognized her.

“Special Agent Bebe Stevens, organized crime division of the FBI. We should have a chat.” She said with a smile as she held out her hand for a shake.

Kyle watched the interaction intently, his brows knitted together in concern. Stan refused to take her hand, he instead just crossed his arms, clenching his jaw.

“Not in a talkative mood, I take it.” Bebe said, taking back her hand.

“Why are you here, Bebe?” Stan asked grimly.

“To put it simply, we’re taking this over. We’re going to need everything you have so far regarding the death of William Miller.” She said curtly.

“Like hell. This is my case, you can’t just come in here-”

“Come on, Stan. This isn’t like when we were little and you used to run around playing detective, this is the real world. And in the real world, no one has ‘dibs’ on cases, Billy was involved with one of our undercover operations, he was helping our guy infiltrate the biggest crime ring in the state. It is crucial that no one catches wind of Billy’s involvement with our inside agent which means that this investigation is now in my jurisdiction.” She elaborated with a grin. “No hard feelings, right?”

“But it wasn’t a mob hit.” Kyle intervened.

“What?” Bebe and Stan both asked in unison.

“Yeah, it doesn’t match the typical mob MO. Billy was shot four times, his body was entirely intact, and in a totally public location. No one even tried to hide it.” Kyle elaborated. “Street gangs make statements like that, not mob families. If they want to intimidate someone, they wouldn’t drop a body of one of their own in front of someone’s house.”

Bebe and Stan were both quiet, but Kyle could tell that the gears in both of their heads were shifting rapidly.

“I’m sorry, aren’t you a lawyer?” Bebe crossed her arms.

“He’s my partner, and you have no right to undermine him like that. Show some respect.” Stan defended, a grimace on his face.

“Oh I have plenty of respect, in fact, Kyle here seems to know quite a bit about the case. How about we have a little talk, Kyle?” Bebe asked, giving him a flirtatious smile. “You can tell me about everything you know about Billy and the mob, maybe over a drink, I’ll buy.”

“He’s not interested. I think the point he was trying to make is that Billy may have been involved with the mob, but that doesn’t mean they killed him.” Stan argued.

“Which would mean that you don’t have jurisdiction over this case.” Kyle confirmed.

“You can take that up with my superiors, but as of right now, I have authorization for this takeover and until I hear otherwise, you’re going to surrender all notes, images, and evidence you’ve collected in the course of this investigation. While Kyle’s theory may have merit, it doesn’t change the fact that that’s all it is: a theory. Unless you have solid, direct evidence that proves that the mob had absolutely no connection to this homicide, you’re legally bound to cooperate.” Bebe said sternly as she clasped her hands together. “Now, Stan, Kyle, should we go talk upstairs or should we just finish this here?”

“My office.” Stan hissed through gritted teeth. “Kyle, stay here.”

On any given day, Kyle would have protested being ordered around like a pet dog, but something told him that this was a fight that he should not get in the middle of. Like animals on the ark, he watched as the agents marched in a uniform line carrying out all of the evidence and files that the team had collected the day before. It was then that he realized that something was missing: the silver briefcase. He made a beeline for the evidence locker and on his way, he saw Clyde through the crack of the open locker room, an empty labelled evidence bag lying crumpled on the floor. Kyle held his breath and moved closer to the doorway to get a better look at the officer.

Clyde was hunched over the briefcase and using a pair of tweezers, he carefully pulled out strand after strand of diamond-embellished silver through the bullet hole on the front side. Kyle counted twelve pieces of jewelry that Clyde deposited into his duffel bag before he stood up and looked around to make sure no one could see, Kyle dashed down the hall to avoid being caught himself. His heart raced in his chest, he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing, he refused to believe that the go-lucky traffic cop would be capable of committing such a crime, and yet he saw it all with his own eyes.

Clyde Donovan was dirty.

* * *

Stan and Bebe emerged from the office after hours of debating, negotiating, name-calling, and petty arguing. When Kyle finally saw them coming down the stairs back into the main lobby of the station, the supplemental special agents were already long gone and the evidence was on its way to the FBI field office in Denver.

“Well?” He asked, looking between the two.

“I won.” Bebe said, her lips curling into a smirk.

“For now, unless you can find a tie to the mob in the next twenty four hours, then it comes back to us.” Stan corrected, glaring at the blonde beside him.

“Which I will, with Kyle’s help.” She said, turning to the red-head before them.

“Excuse me?” Kyle asked. “Stan, you can’t just rent me out-”

“I am not renting you out, and you’re not going to get Kyle!” Stan argued, crossing his arms.

“He’s right, Bebe.” Ike said as he walked through the doors of the station. “Kyle’s employment contract explicitly states that he has to be with Stan in all investigative proceedings, he’s not authorized to come in and consult for you independently.”

“You called Ike?” Stan asked exasperatedly.

“Dude, I had to, they were taking our case!” Kyle insisted.

“You two, go back to Stan’s office and we’ll work this out in the conference room.” Ike said as he straightened his tie.

Stan and Kyle reluctantly went back upstairs to the detective’s office and shut the door behind them.

“Of all the FBI agents in all the country, they send fucking Bebe.” Stan grumbled as he leaned back in his desk chair.

“Stan, I need to talk to you about something.” Kyle said, biting his lip anxiously.

“Listen, if it’s about this morning, let’s just-”

“It’s not about this morning.” He insisted.

“Okay, what is it then?” Stan suddenly became concerned over Kyle’s nervous behavior.

“Stan, it’s Clyde. I saw him in the locker room, tampering with the briefcase you found at the crime scene.” Kyle whispered before glancing over his shoulder to ensure that no one was outside the door.

“Tampering how?” Stan asked lowly.

“He was using tweezers to take jewelry from it, he stole it and put it all in his duffel bag.”

Stan shot up, locked the door, and pulled down the blinds.

“God dammit, Kyle.” He groaned.

“What should we do? Who do we tell?” Kyle asked frantically.

“Wait, I’m the only person you’ve said anything to?”

“Yes, why?”

“Good. That’s really good, because we’re going to keep this quiet. You’re going to forget what you saw and move on.” Stan said with a firm nod of his head.

“What? No! Did you even hear me? I saw him take what looked like thousands of dollars worth of jewelry from evidence in an open investigation!” Kyle couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“And that’s good for him, hopefully it won’t happen again, and we’re just going to pretend this never happened.” Stan told him as he went back and sat back down behind the desk.

“Stan what the fuck-”

“No, Kyle. That’s final. Just drop it.” He insisted.

“What the hell is wrong with you? What about justice? Corruption? Do you even care?” Kyle asked incredulously.

“Of course I fucking care, Kyle!” Stan shouted, his hand banging on the desk. He cleared his throat and continued in a hushed tone, “You have no idea how much I care, but there are some things that are better off kept quiet.”

“You know what, I really don’t know you afterall.” Kyle muttered softly. “All these years, super best friends, that was all just bullshit, _you_ are fucking bullshit, Stan!”

“Shut up!” Stan snapped. “Just listen to me for a second, please.”

“This better be good.”  Kyle scoffed.

“Taking jewelry from an evidence locker is not worth the trouble that comes with becoming a snitch.” He tried to explain.

“Ha! A snitch, so you’re just going to let this slime ball get away with this shit because you don’t want to be uncool to your little buddy cops. Nice, Stan.” Kyle stood and turned his back to him.

“This isn’t some ego issue, Kyle, you don’t fucking get it! There’s a bond there, okay? Even in the police academy, one of the most important rules we learn is that you don’t rat on another officer. You trust each other, because if you find yourself on the losing side in a knife fight, you want to know that one of your brothers is gonna jump in the middle with a gun.” Stan explained, his lips curling in frustration. “You don’t violate that trust, Kyle. Not over jewelry, no matter how many dollar signs it’s worth.”

“So justice comes in second? Wow, good to know-” Stan interrupted by grabbing Kyle by the arm and whipping him around. Their faces were inches apart and Kyle found himself trapped by a muscled hand pressed against the same wall he was now backed up against. Stan slowly leaned down to his level and Kyle could feel his breath on his ear.

“I’m sorry if you think it’s wrong, but your life, your safety is more valuable to me than any number of diamonds or convictions. If we’re in the field and I’m down, I need to know that backup will be on the way for you. If that makes you hate me, then that’s fine. I can live with that.” He whispered hoarsely before pulling away and grabbing his coat. “Good night.”

Kyle shuddered at the sound of Stan slamming the door behind him. Until that moment, everything seemed so black and white, that the police force was fixed and good, but the disillusioning realization left him paralyzed in Stan’s office. This was all very real, the grit and corruption he saw so often on TV was not restrained to a fictional world, it was everywhere in every person, and the South Park Police Department was not immune to it’s charms. Kyle was afraid.

* * *

Ike intercepted Stan’s dramatic exit in the parking lot.

“Listen, I know you said to stay, but I need to go home.” Stan said as he started walking faster toward his car.

“No, we need to have a talk first.” Ike said, jogging to catch up.

“I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow-”

“It’s about my brother, Stan.” He called. Stan paused and took a deep breath before slowly turning around.

“What is it now?”

“Come back inside, there’s some things you need to see.” Ike insisted, Stan shook his head before sighing and following Ike back into the police station.

In the conference room, Ike sat at the head of the table and opened his briefcase. Stan refused to take a seat and instead just crossed his arms and paced back and forth.

“What is this about?” Stan asked impatiently.

“You’re in love with my brother.” Ike stated as if it were common knowledge.

“DogPoo told you?” Stan assumed, fury bubbling within him. “Bastard said that everything was confidential-”

“It wasn’t DogPoo, Stan. You just confirmed a hunch I had.” Ike pulled out a series of PET scan images and laid them out in order. “Here, this is your brain.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Just look. I won’t get into all the technical medical jargon with you, but these three scans are from before your injury, during your coma, and just two weeks ago. See that part there? The big red blob in the middle of these last two?”

“Yeah, what about it?” Stan asked skeptically.

“That’s the hypothalamus and a few other important parts of your brain, but basically, these are the parts that are responsible for love, sexual attraction and even anger. Before your incident, there was little activity and you didn’t have feelings for my brother. Then during your coma, you had a dream about a fake life you two had together, neurons are firing like crazy and your brain is in love, and as of two weeks ago… it’s still lit up.” Ike explained.

“Okay, so what are you getting at?”

“I’m saying that this attraction you’re feeling, this love you think you have, it’s not real, Stan. And just like all the other effects from your trauma, it’s temporary, and it will fade away with everything else.” He said solemnly.

“I’m not buying it.” Stan shook his head and crossed his arms. “You’re just butting in where you shouldn’t be-”  
“I thought you’d say that, which is why I have these blood test results that back up what I’m telling you.” He pulled out another series of reports. “Since waking up, your body has had a massive influx of oxytocin, dopamine, and vasopressin. Just like adrenaline in your system after a traumatic incident, it’s going to fade.”

Stan slowly sat down, trying to take in everything that he was hearing. Ike put a hand on his shoulder and sunk down in the chair beside him.

“I know that this is hard for you, but you have to think outside yourself. If you cross that line with Kyle, and you change your mind and realize that you are not the person from that coma dream, he’ll never recover.” Ike told him. “I know that you care and you want what’s best for him, but Stan, you need to consider that what you want may not be it. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, that settling for second best might be what’s actually best after all.” He muttered to himself.

Ike nodded and began collecting the papers to return to his briefcase. Stan just sat still, his fingers combed in his hair as he tried to process what he had just discovered. Nothing was real, everything he learned, all the happiness he felt and future he had hoped for, all nothing more than a chemical anomaly from a bullet to the head. There was nothing to look forward to, he had lost his motivation and the light at the end of the tunnel grew dimmer and dimmer by the second. Stan fished his phone out of his pocket once Ike finally left the conference room and hit speed dial two for the first time in quite a while. 

"Hey Andy, I really need some help..." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! Comments make my day and give me all the motivation I need to put out more content, so please let me know what you think and if there's anything you liked, disliked, or want to see more/less of! I love you all and hope I'm doing you proud <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short, and for that, I am so sorry. But it's packed full of stuff, and I am so glad and thankful to all of you who have stuck around this long to read it! 
> 
> Please be patient with my grammar, any errors in spelling, formatting, or otherwise because I've turned proofreading into a drinking game and boy this one did me in. Once again, comments are my ultimate motivator, and they fuel speedy updates! Thank you and enjoy!

Some storms like to make an entrance, they will RSVP with clouds in the sky, their coming will be foretold weeks in advance, whereas others live for the element of surprise. They will just show up unannounced with howling winds and streaks of lightning painting the blank canvas of the horizon. The first sign of the storm crossing Kyle Broflovski was not a clap of thunder, but the clink of a shot glass on a freshly polished counter top. 

After the heated encounter with Stan concerning the questionable integrity of one of South Park’s most trusted officers, Kyle found himself with Kenny at David’s bar once again. There was a mess of emotions stirring within him, and yet if asked, he wouldn’t have been able to identify a single one. All he knew was that he needed to forget, if only for a little while. For Kyle, there was no better place than the stool next to Kenny’s facing the large poster with Cartman’s picture on it with big red lettering stating that David had the right to refuse service to anyone.

“So what brings you to the doctor this time?” David asked as he poured a second shot for both of them. 

“Head cold.” Kenny responded. “And this guy’s got a bad case of the ‘I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it’s.” 

“Is that right?” David clicked his tongue as he stole Kyle’s shot of whiskey for himself and grabbed a different glass. “In that case, I think you just might need something stronger.” 

“No tequila.” Kyle insisted vehemently. Both Kenny and David groaned in disappointment. 

“You must really not want to spill about it, huh?” Kenny said, giving him a once-over. “Is it really that bad?” 

“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ don’t you guys understand?” Kyle snapped. The smile fell from both of the other men's faces and Kyle immediately felt remorse. “Listen, I’m sorry, it’s just a lot and I’m really only interested in forgetting it happened. Can I just do that?” 

“Sure, on one condition.” David said, crossing his arms. 

“Fine, what is it?” 

David looked genuinely surprised. “Wow, really? I thought that would be a lot harder, considering the whole lawyer thing. Kenny, what do you think?” 

“Oh goody, this is exciting. I don’t know, David, the possibilities really are endless here.” Kenny mused with a mischievous grin.   
“Will you both please just put me out of my misery already?” Kyle grumbled. 

“I got it.” David announced, proudly slamming his hand down on the counter. “I’ll give you what you need to forget the world, and next week, you’re going to get the whole police station to come on down here for open mic night, where you’ll sing us a little ditty. Deal?” 

“Since when do you do open mic night?” Kyle’s brows furrowed together. 

“Since next week. Is that a yes?” David asked and Kenny’s face lit up with excitement. 

“Fine.” Kyle groaned. 

“Wonderful, here you are, sir.” David chuckled as he began preparing a line of colorful shots. 

Kyle drank himself into oblivion and Kenny went right down with him serving as his very own quirky tour guide. David definitely held up his end of the deal, whatever was in the shots that he made for the two did the trick four times over. The bartender had a gift, no matter how much anyone drank, he could always tell exactly how much of what to give them to get them utterly sloshed but without getting sick. He was yet to discover the formula to minimize the hangover, but a visit to the bar in the morning for a little hair of the dog treatment would clear that up right away. But in that moment, the morning was their last concern, Kyle and Kenny were inebriated and ready to have a great time.

“Dare!” Kyle announced, hiccuping as he laughed.

“Boo!” Kenny protested. “You haven’t done any of the other ones, pick truth!”

“Nope, that’s not how the game works. Dare me, Kenny.” He slurred back. 

David watched them both with clear amusement in his eyes. He had no idea when they decided to resort to playing classic high school party games, but it was definitely quality entertainment. 

“Okay, fine.” Kenny huffed. “I dare you… to tell the truth about you and Stan.” 

“That’s not how truth or dare works.” Kyle argued. 

“I licked the curb, Kyle, you don’t get to back out of this one!” Kenny barked drunkenly.

David crossed his arms and shrugged, “I’m with Ken on this one, you’ve just been sitting here while he’s been doing a whole bunch of crazy shit. So spill.” He ruled. 

“There’s nothing to spill!” Kyle whined. “Stan and I are best friends, and even though he got me disbarred, he’s still my super best friend and now we’re partners in crime fighting.” Kenny and David groaned in disappointment. 

“Goddamn even when he’s drunk he’s boring.” Kenny complained to David.

“What are you talking about? I’m plenty fun!” Kyle argued defensively. 

“That’s right, you are. Kenny here is just bummed out because he thought you two would be an actual couple by now.” 

“HA! A couple? You have it all wrong.” Kyle cleared his throat and sat up straighter, swaying in his seat. “Number 1, Stan’s straight. Two, we’re best friends, that’s all we’ve ever been, that’s not changing-” 

“Pft!” Kenny interjected. 

“What?” 

“You’re wrong.” 

“How am I wrong?”

“You two have been a couple for ages, you just didn’t know it because you weren’t having sex.” Kenny replied with a snarky huff. 

“Excuse me?” Kyle wasn’t following, and David just sighed exasperatedly. 

“Kyle, when was the last time you got laid?” 

“What- Why am I on trial right now? I picked dare!” 

“You’re not, but judging by your reaction, it’s been awhile. What Kenny is implying is that the reason behind that is because your subconscious is loyal to Stan in a physical and romantic sense.” David explained. “And I think it’s safe to assume that Stan hasn’t had a second date since Wendy, so somewhere deep down he must feel the same.” 

Kenny was sweating, it took every last ounce of willpower he had to not blurt out everything he knew from both sides. The only thing stopping him was not the guilt over betraying Stan’s trust, but rather the fact that if he interfered or instigated in any way, he’d be violating the terms of the bet he made with Ike nearly a decade ago. There was $500 waiting for the victor, and Kenny had been so patient for so long and he was certain that the dam would break any day now and the two would stop playing games and just get together already. 

“I know him better than anyone, we’re super best friends.” Kyle reiterated. “We don’t feel that way for each other, and the only reason Stan may have felt something at some point was because he was confused after his coma. The only universe where we’d actually be together exists only in a coma induced by a literal bullet to the head.” 

David sighed and poured another round of shots. 

“But I do have a confession…” Kyle muttered under his breath. 

Both Kenny and David paused, both their interests clearly piqued. 

“Go on.” David said as he slowly slid the shot across the counter to him. 

“I uh… I may have  _ ahem _ did stuff in the police station.” 

Both of their jaws dropped and Kyle panicked, nervously laughing as he tried to pass it off as some kind of joke. 

“Aha- got you. Can’t believe you fell for that.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh no, no no no. Are you saying you fucked someone in the police station?” David demanded.

“What? No!” 

“Oh my god, he masturbated. Kyle rubbed one out in the precinct.” Kenny said with a gasp, reaching out to take David’s hand. 

“It’s not that big a deal!” Kyle was frantically trying to backtrack. 

“I beg to differ.” David scoffed. “What on Earth had you so wound up that you couldn’t wait to get home?” 

“Neither of you can tell anyone about this.” Kyle whispered as he looked around the room.

“Of course, I’m a bartender, I’m the world’s best secret-keeper.” David promised and slid the other shot toward Kenny. “And once he takes this, he won’t even remember this conversation happened in the morning.” 

Kenny eagerly took the shot and leaned in toward Kyle, earning an “atta-boy” from David.  
“Okay… So I may have had a little argument with Stan.” Kyle began, his tone still hushed. “And during said argument, he may have had me pinned up against a wall and I may have accidentally gotten a bit… hot and bothered by it.” 

“I fucking called it!” Kenny shouted, slamming his hand down on the counter. “You all heard it, I totally called it, you’re into Stan!” 

“No! I’m not into him, alright? Like David said, it’s been a long time since I’ve been involved with anyone, and my body just kind of reacted to the whole physical force thing, that was it, it had nothing to do with Stan or anything, just y’know...being manhandled.” 

“I take it back, you’re not as boring as I thought.” Kenny chuckled, slinging his arm around Kyle’s shoulders. “Speaking of which though, where is he tonight? He should come out!” 

“He’s got a meeting tonight.” Kyle hiccupped. “And Stan doesn’t do bars, he’s a recovering alcoholic, remember?” 

“Right, right, right. Hey, David, am I an alcoholic?” Kenny asked, turning once again to the bartender who was polishing off another glass.

“Sure are, Kenny.” He says with a click of his tongue. “But I’ve got your back, I won’t let you get that bad.”

* * *

 

The concept of safety seems fairly simple. One person may define it as the feeling when being held by a parent or a loved one, another might say it comes with locking the deadbolt when arriving home in a picturesque suburb. Safety lives in a gray blur of morality, safety can be world peace, and yet it can be found on every gun, its definition can only be determined by whoever is experiencing it at that moment in time. Stan Marsh once found what he assumed was safety in the blackout waiting at the bottom of a Jameson bottle. Since then, he found a new safe space, one filled with light and stale cookies: Alcoholics Anonymous meetings at the Fairplay Community Center. 

The room was  lit with fluorescent lights, the chairs were set up in a circle and beneath their feet was polished wood and the painted lines of a basketball court. In the exposed space of the walls void of bleachers, the paint was peeling at the corners, giving a glimpse of the layers like some kind of glossy stratigraphic record dating back to the times where lead paint was commonplace. To Stan, there was no safer place in the rest of the world. 

“Alright everyone, as you may know, our very own Stan here is coming up on a pretty big milestone.” Andy announced from behind the podium. “And, as is tradition, we’ll be having a potluck celebration here at the community center next Thursday night at 7:00 PM. As always, it’s optional, but if it’s any incentive, I’ll be bringing my lady’s special strawberry punch and my own special fajitas!” 

“Drew, that means you have to be there, we’re gonna need a paramedic.” Stan teased, elbowing the man in the chair next to him. The rest of the circle laughed with them and Andy even cracked a smile. 

“Alright, alright, I’ve taken lessons, I know better now!” Andy chuckled, defending himself. “Anyone got any questions? Anything else they’d like to share?” 

“I think I do.” Stan said, clearing his throat. “I uh… I came close to relapsing earlier today, and I feel like I gotta hash it out.” 

“Come on up, the floor is yours.” Andy said as he stepped away from the podium to make way for Stan. 

“Hey everybody. I’m Stan, and I’m an alcoholic.” 

“Hi Stan.” The group said in unison. 

“Thanks uh… As you know, I’m coming up on five years next week, but I almost went off the rails. You see, I had a pretty bad injury a few months back and I spent a lot of time in recovery, and I was actually in a coma for about two weeks, it was pretty serious. Anyway, when I woke up, I was convinced that I had romantic feelings for my partner at work, who is also my best friend.” He clutched the podium and hung his head low. “I was really sure about it, and I was ready to make my move and everything, but I found out that it wasn’t real. That what I thought I felt was just an after-effect from being shot and it was just a temporary side-effect.” 

One of the men in the circle, a burly lumberjack looking guy, raised his hand. 

“Uh...Yeah?” Stan said, nodding toward him. 

“I don’t know who told you that, but I think we can all agree they’re pretty fuckin full of it.” He said, his voice deeply ingrained with a smooth southern twang. The rest of the group mumbled in agreement. 

“What?” 

“Yeah, you’re talking about that Kyle guy, right?” Another chimed in. 

“Yes, but why are you-” 

“Listen, we don’t judge, we’re all pretty PC here and let’s be honest, we’re in no place to judge. But the way you’ve talked about him, I thought y’all were at least bonin’ on the side.” The lumberjack said, crossing his arms. “I’m pretty sure the only one who didn’t know that you’re into him is you.” 

Stan was stunned. “We spent our whole lives together, I mean, he’s my best friend.” 

“Drew’s been my best friend since the first grade and I don’t talk about him like that.” One of the other members argued. 

“Wait… So what exactly are you telling me?” Stan asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to process everything. 

“Stan, you were in love with that kid long before your brains got scrambled.” Andy confirmed. “We’re not neurologists here, but from what I can tell, all that bullet did was knock some sense into you.” 

“Huh.” Stan said, thinking it all over. “And none of you thought to mention it before?” 

“That’s not really our place. But we definitely don’t take kindly to some rando coming in and trying to say your emotions are invalid, that ain’t right.” The lumberjack huffed. “This whole thing has been a long time coming, and I’ll be damned if someone else comes in and stands in the way of fate.” 

Everyone’s head turned to look at him. 

“That was… very beautiful, Buck.” Andy said after a long moment of silence. 

“Thank you. Just cause I got a beard doesn’t mean I don’t got a heart too.” He huffed. 

Stan’s heart was racing in his chest. He swore at that moment, he could practically taste the butterflies fluttering about in his stomach. All that panic, that doubt, that sorrow, all for nothing. He loved Kyle all along. Of course he did, it all made so much sense. 

“Holy shit. You guys… You’re really great, thank you. Seriously. You just changed the game here.” Stan said incredulously. 

The group applauded him, and while Stan wouldn’t break the confidentiality of AA, he knew that if he recounted this story, no one would ever believe him. 

* * *

Bebe’s team had officially taken over the case, but that didn’t stop Stan and Kyle from conducting their own investigation behind closed doors. In the week since their evidence and files had been confiscated, the pair had actually come up with quite a considerable amount of information. From a basic background check, Stan was able to find definitive ties between Billy Miller and the Italian mobster family, the Belzers. Apparently, the only criminal activity on record for Billy was basic tax evasion, some suspected embezzlement and one case of assault, but in every account, the charges never stuck. Kyle was proven to be right, if Billy was involved with the mob, he wasn’t taking part in any big time drug dealing or smuggling; the evidence suggested he was nothing more than a grunt. They had gone deeper and found out a fair amount of information regarding the inner workings of the family and even managed to get in contact with one of the ranking members through a very lucky routine traffic stop. 

Giovanni Belzer was not the chatty type, but with what little he said, Stan and Kyle got more than enough information to get a lead in the case. There was a gold mine of answers waiting in the back management office of Buca di Faggoncini, because of course the only reputable Italian restaurant franchise would be owned, at least in part, by the mob. 

There was one curve ball that was thrown Stan’s way that he definitely had not seen coming, and that was finding Bebe waiting impatiently in his office when he came back from lunch. 

“Where’s your partner?” She asked. 

“Well good afternoon to you, too.” Stan scoffed as he moved to take a seat at his desk. “He’s on a phone call, but I think a better question is why are  _ you _ here?” 

Bebe sighed and crossed her arms. “We’ve come up empty on the Billy Miller case.”

The words were music to Stan’s ears and his eyes were practically dancing with delight, “Oh really?” 

“Yes, and I’d appreciate it if you’d act like a fucking adult about this.” She huffed, grinding her teeth in frustration. 

“Hey, I’m just saying that it’s no surprise, that’s all.” Stan said with a half-chuckle. “So what, you’re here to ask for help?” 

“I’m here to see if you’re mature enough to cooperate, but it clearly looks like the answer is no.” Bebe argued. 

“Oh come on, just let me enjoy this for a second.” He said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Fine.” She sighed. “We’ve come up empty, and all we’ve got so far is some unidentified prints on a busted briefcase.” 

“Funny you should mention that, because I actually got a hit on those.” Stan shot her a cheeky grin. 

“What? That wasn’t mentioned in the files you sent over, how is it possible-” 

“You jumped the gun, fingerprint analysis isn’t instantaneous, Bebe.” He said, clicking his tongue. 

Just as Bebe was about to argue, Kyle entered the office. 

“Oh- is it a bad time?” He asked, feeling the suffocating tension lingering heavily in the air. 

“Of course not, Kyle. Bebe here is just paying us a visit to let us know she’s a miserable failure and needs our help.” Stan was practically singing. 

“I am not!” She objected. 

“Are too!” He sneered.

“Children, please!” Kyle shouted over them, looking between the two. “Someone tell me exactly what’s going on here.” 

“Bebe wants to know about the fingerprint results I got on the briefcase that was found with Billy Miller.” Stan said. 

“Okay, who is it?” Kyle asked, having not actually heard the news himself before.

“I’m not saying until Bebe admits that she couldn’t handle it and gives the case back to us.” Stan stated plainly. 

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done with all this bullshit.” Bebe finally stood up and threw her hands up in frustration. 

“Wait, Bebe!” Kyle called to stop her. “We can come up with a compromise. How about we both help each other out here and work together. Stan, you know you could use the FBI’s resources, and Bebe, you need to know what Stan’s found so far. Can we all please get along so a murderer doesn’t walk free?” 

Both of them sighed and nodded like children who were just scolded by a particularly frustrated school teacher. 

“Fine.” They both said in unison.

“Good. Now, Stan, whose fingerprints were on the briefcase?” Kyle asked, serving as the begrudging mediator between the two. Stan paused, letting the anticipation build in silence for dramatic effect. 

“Oh my god will you  _ please  _ just spit it out already?” Bebe groaned, irritation evident in her voice. 

“Well the match was from the precinct’s old employment records. The prints…” He cracked a smile and crossed his arms, “are Barbrady’s.” 

Both Bebe and Kyle were in awe, neither of them would have ever thought to check such an old, outdated database. But more startlingly, they now had to find out just how a former police officer and bumbling idiot was involved in the death of a known member of the mafia. 

“How long have you had this information?” Bebe pressed, still in shock. 

“Oh Bebe,” Stan hummed fondly, “Not long enough to be charged with obstruction of justice for impeding a federal investigation, if that’s what you’re getting at.” 

“You are such an asshole.” She seethed, her nostrils flaring in frustration. 

“I’d tell you to go fuck yourself but the Eighth Amendment protects you against cruel and unusual punishment.” Stan quipped in response. “Unfortunately, the Constitution protects everyone, including she-demons like you.” 

Kyle shot him a glare and Stan sunk down in his seat, realizing that he had gone too far in Kyle’s eyes. 

“I’ll get in contact with my team and have someone bring Barbrady in, I’d give it 24 hours.” She excused herself as she pulled out her phone and began dialing, walking out into the hallway.   
“Dude, why do you have to pick fights with her?” Kyle whispered once the door shut behind her. 

“Me? She started it!”

“I don’t care who started it, you decided to let her get to you!” He lectured

Stan rolled his eyes, “Oh, thanks mom, yeah I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m not acting like a mom!” Kyle argued defensively.

“Are too.” Stan taunted him. 

“Stan, I swear to god-”

“Okay, I’m sorry, that was childish. Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something by the way. Thursday, are you busy?” He asked, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Not unless you are, why?” 

“I’ve got a thing and I want you to come.” Stan whispered excitedly.

“You’re not even going to buy me dinner first?” Kyle replied with a teasing scoff.

“What? Dude, you know what I’m talking about! I’m serious, this is kind of a big deal, can I count on you to be home so I can pick you up around 6?” He asked, hope gleaming in his eyes. Kyle couldn’t help but smile.

“Sure, yeah, I’ll put it on the calendar.” 

“Great. And make sure to dress nice.” Stan was beaming with excitement. 

Bebe came back into the room, shoving her phone back into the inside pocket of her blazer. “Alright, I’ve got my people on it and they’re going to bring him in as soon as we find him.” 

“Great, so until then, we’re just sitting ducks.” Stan added. 

“Not so fast, I need to know everything else you found from the case, any pertinent information is crucial and we’ve already lost a week here.” Bebe countered.

“Yeah and whose fault is that?” Stan snapped back. 

“Stan, behave.” Kyle warned, giving him a look from the corner of his eye.

“I’m not a fucking dog, dude-” 

“I beg to differ” Bebe chimed in. 

“What? What the fuck? Why am I being attacked right now?” 

The three went through the information they’d compiled so far and slowly things were all coming together. However, everything they found so far only painted the picture of the life that Billy lived, not the way it ended. They were still in the dark about why he was at the McCormick residence, why he had the briefcase, and who could have shot him four times and leave said briefcase rather than taking it with them. Since Billy didn’t have a phone or any personal effects on him aside from a wallet with $25 in cash, they couldn’t even find out who he had been in contact with before his death. What interested Bebe most, however, was the brief conversation Stan and Kyle had with Giovanni Belzer. 

“Wait, you contacted one of the actual members of the mob?!” Bebe sputtered. 

“It was a routine traffic stop, he was cooperative and I let him off with a warning.” Stan shrugged nonchalantly. 

“What  _ exactly _ did he tell you?” She asked with urgency. 

“Calm down, Bebe, we didn’t out your mole or anything like that. We asked where he was going because he was driving at 60 in a residential area, he said he was late for a rehearsal dinner over at Buca. I asked about the happy couple, he said it was his cousin, I asked if I’d know them, he said they’re the owner’s kid so it would probably be out of my paygrade to know them.” He rehashed. 

“Seriously? He told you all that just because you asked?” 

“Yeah, it’s amazing the lengths people would go to avoid a speeding ticket.” Stan scoffed. 

“My guess is that he didn’t want to draw negative attention to himself, if he seemed too suspicious then he could be facing trouble from more than just the police if he were to come up as a person of interest. If this was a mob hit, which I still don’t think it was, if anyone caught wind of even that innocent traffic stop, his would probably be the next body we find.” Kyle elaborated. 

“You two are so dense, I can’t believe you went to college.” Bebe sighed, rubbing her temples. 

“I thought you’d be happy about this, even if Billy Miller wasn’t killed by the mob, I’ve got a gut feeling that whatever’s in the management office at Buca could be a career maker for you.” Stan added. 

“That doesn’t matter, you asked too many questions, Stan! The fact you were on patrol was enough to tip them off to begin with, you were plastered all over local news a few months ago for that whole Tweek thing and before that, you’re a decorated detective and kind of a local celebrity!” She said, gesturing to the framed newspaper articles adorning Stan’s office walls. “Do you really think they wouldn’t be suspicious of a highly ranked investigator randomly doing a fucking traffic stop?”

Stan and Kyle were both caught off-guard. That had not occurred to either of them at all, and in hindsight, the whole trap was a pretty stupid plan. 

“Okay, listen, the guy didn’t seem that bright, he probably didn’t even think anything of it.” Stan tried to brush it off, but no one was fooled into turning a blind eye to his very obvious nervousness. 

“You better hope that’s the case, otherwise we’re all in deep shit here, more than you two could possibly imagine.” She warned. 

“Well there’s nothing we can do about it now.” Kyle added. “It’s almost 8, we should all go home and get some rest then touch base again in the morning.” 

Bebe sighed, “You’re right. Both of you, keep your phones on, I’ll make sure to call you if I hear anything back about Barbrady.” She stood up and made her way to the door of the office, but just before crossing the threshold, she hesitated. 

“But in spite of that slip up, you guys have done some really good work here. Thank you, I mean it.” She said, smiling softly. 

While neither would mention it, both Stan and Kyle were elated by that little scrap of approval Bebe threw their way. 

* * *

Kyle was walking to David’s bar, the time had come for him to hold up his end of the deal he made with David. Stan had offered him a ride, but Kyle was adamant on procrastinating as much as he could before his big musical debut. 

Kyle would come to regret the decision to decline that ride. 

He was on the phone with Ike who was already at the bar with half the police station personnel, he couldn’t have been more than two blocks away when everything went haywire. It wasn’t like the confrontation with Mrs. Tweak, it wasn’t over in an instant, the adrenaline didn’t give him an unexpected impulse to fight. 

Kyle heard a string of popping and he could feel his chest seize up. His body couldn’t move fast enough, he dived behind a parked car, but he could have sworn that even gravity had hitched a ride with courage and abandoned him in the time that he needed them most. The windows of the storefronts shattered behind him and he was left shaking in a fetal position behind the gray prius parked in the fire lane in front of the old shoe store. 

His ears were ringing, and all he saw when he looked up was a black SUV with triple tinted windows, and a black pipe, the barrel of the gun that was aiming for him retreated back into the vehicle like a stiff black mamba retreating into its hole. 

Eight seconds. The drive-by shooting lasted eight seconds. Those eight seconds took years from Kyle’s life. 

He didn’t know if he was injured, he couldn’t feel his body as a whole, he could only describe the sensation as being able to feel each cell of his being vibrating frantically in space. It was like the difference between his physical form and the window that took the bullet meant for him was obsolete. 

Stan was his first and only call. 

* * *

Bebe, Stan, and a handful of FBI special agents were crowding around Kyle as the paramedics examined him. He was still in shock and unable to speak beyond babbling utter nonsense. Stan had never been more angry in his life, and that didn’t go unnoticed by the blonde in charge. She pulled Stan aside and ordered her team to give Kyle some space. 

“Stan, he’s okay.” She reminded him, putting a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him down.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Someone just tried to kill my partner, look at him, does that look ‘okay’ to you?!” He shouted. 

“Cool it, Marsh!” Bebe ordered, and Stan froze for a moment, glaring at her before taking a few deep breaths. “You’re not helping him by freaking out. Kyle wasn’t injured, but he is scared and you, as his partner, have a responsibility to be his rock right now. Whatever you’re feeling, I guarantee he’s feeling the same thing ten times over so the best thing that you can do for him is get it together.” 

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I know. I just… A line was crossed here, Bebe.” 

“I know, Stan. Trust me, I do, and we’re going to catch the bastard that did this, but in order to do that, we need to do our jobs and look at the evidence. If you’re too shaken right now, that’s fine, but I could really use your eyes here so we can put this guy away.” Bebe gave him a pat on the shoulder and Stan found himself with a growing respect for her. 

“Okay.” He said softly. “Yeah, I’ll help.”

“Atta boy.” Bebe said, giving his shoulder an encouraging punch. “It looks like whoever did this had a pretty heavy duty weapon.” She told him as she led him over to the wall that housed the window, it was now littered with a string of bullet holes all in a neat sequential line. 

“It almost looks military grade, but considering the shooter was in a moving car and the spacing and angle of the holes… It could have been a standard assault rifle if it was in the hands of an experienced gunman.” He deduced.

“My thoughts exactly.” Bebe confirmed. “But look how deep the bullets went into the wall, whatever weapon it was, it had to have been modified somehow because there’s no way a standard assault rifle could pack this kind of a punch.” She said as she slipped her pinky finger into one of the holes. 

“Wow, you’re right, that’s got to be at least two inches. This building was also just recently remodeled, so the walls are all strong and up to code.” Stan muttered to himself when it suddenly hit him. “Bebe, we have seen this before.” 

“Where?” 

“At SoDoSoPa, the glass was shattered on the patio above where they found Billy but when I went up and got a closer look, and there was a string of holes just like this on the drywall underneath the railing. There couldn’t have been more than two but we didn’t swab or anything because the techs confirmed that the glass was shot after Billy was killed, we didn’t think it was related.” Stan punched the air in frustration. “I’m a fucking idiot.” 

“Stan, no, you’re not. We didn’t look into it either, every case has its oversights, but now we can investigate it and find out whatever else we can from it.” Bebe reassured him. “We’ll catch the guy, I’ll have my techs do a full sweep, but for now it looks like you’re needed elsewhere.” She said, gesturing over to Kyle who was walking away from the paramedics.

“Kyle.” Stan said as he jogged over to him. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m fine, Stan. They missed.” Kyle said quietly. 

“Let’s get you home, okay? I’m staying over and I’ll have Bebe send over some more people for security.” He assured him, trying to stay as calm and collected as possible. 

“That’s not necessary, the likelihood of them coming back-”

“Kyle.” Stan interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t fight me on this, please.” 

Kyle slowly nodded. 

“I’ve got to go file a report real quick but I’m going to have Bebe here take you home and I’ll meet you there in an hour, tops.” Stan looked over at her and she nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah, my car’s right over here.” Bebe said as she approached them. 

Kyle didn’t have the strength to argue and instead just went with Bebe to the car. At that point, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get any sleep that night, but he wanted nothing more than to be in his bed, tucked away in the safe haven between his memory foam mattress and three heavy comforters. 

* * *

Stan rarely lied to Kyle, but this was a very special circumstance that he could justify by knowing that it was in his partner’s best interest. Rather than going to the police station to file a report like he promised before, he instead decided to make his way over to the address that was listed on a certain mobster’s drivers license. When he arrived, he considered himself to be especially lucky because Giovanni was on his patio smoking a cigar, for all Stan knew, he was waiting for him. 

“Hey Gio!” He called as he slammed the door of his car, marching right up to the house.

“A little late for a visit, isn’t it?” Giovanni asked, his tone calm and collected. 

Stan couldn’t contain himself. He grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him up against the door of his house, snarling like some kind of animal. 

“You messed with the wrong fucking guy, Gio.” He seethed, moving his forearm to press up against the Italian’s rather bloated neck. 

“Isn’t there some kind of rule against officers threatening civilians?” Giovanni choked out snarkily. 

“You put a fucking hit out on my partner.” Stan accused, applying more pressure on his neck. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit.” 

“I’m serious, Marsh, you know, police brutality is a real serious problem.” His voice was nasally and raspy, the pressure of Stan’s arm only adding to the general sickening quality to the sound. 

“I’m not here as a fucking cop, Gio. I’m here just as a regular guy with extensive tactical training letting you know that if you fucking try to pull that shit again, I will fucking end you.” Stan snarled, baring his teeth with every word. 

“And risk the fame and glory that comes with being south parks golden boy? Come on, Marsh.” Giovanni sneered. 

“I don’t think you’re hearing me, if anything happens to Kyle, and I mean anything, I’m coming for your fucking head, you got that?” Stan pulled him from the wall for a moment only to slam him back into it even harder. 

“Ah!” He winced as his head hit the wood. “And how will you know it’s me, huh? Accidents happen all the time.” 

“I don’t care, he could scrape his knee and if I can find a way to trace it back to you, I’m coming for you. If  _ any _ harm comes to  _ my _ fucking partner, you’re a dead man. Are we FUCKING clear?” Stan roared. The man was unhinged. 

“I got it, I got it!” Giovanni finally gave in. “But it’s beyond my control, I don’t have that kind of influence, I take orders, I don’t give them.” He whispered.

“And again, I don’t care. You’re going to be the one that pays if anything happens to my partner, so I’d spread the word if I were you or I will hunt you down and make you wish you were never born.” 

“I said I fucking got it.” Giovanni growled. Stan finally released him and gave him a smile.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it? Have a great night, buddy.” Stan patted his shoulder and whistled as he strutted back over to his car. Giovanni was still trying to catch his breath as he watched Stan, glaring at the back of his head. 

* * *

Kyle was settled in bed by the time Stan arrived. While he logically knew that the odds of another attempt being made on his life were slim to none, the sound of the door closing downstairs still chilled him down to the very bone. The fear only grew with each heavy step on the stairs as the visitor came closer and closer. 

“Kyle?” Stan asked softly. Kyle sighed in relief.

“Stan?” He called as he sat up and pulled the covers higher up on his body. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” He said as he opened the door. “Don’t worry, you’re safe.” 

“I know.” Kyle said softly. 

“Sorry, I just wanted to check up on you, you can go back to bed.” He said with a smile before beginning to close the door. 

“Wait, Stan.” He paused in his tracks. “I can’t sleep.”

“I’ll keep it down, I’m sorry, I probably sounded like manbearpig or something when I was coming up here.” He said with a half-hearted chuckle. 

“No, I mean, it’s not the noise that’s keeping me up. I guess I’m just feeling kind of jittery.” Kyle replied, “Do you want to maybe...watch a movie or something?” 

Stan smiled, “Of course, sure, you have to stay up here though so I’ll have to get the dvd player-”

“I’ve got an xBox up here, dude, we can just watch Netflix on that.” Kyle said as he scooted over to one side and patted the other for Stan to join him. 

“God, fucking xBox man.” Stan chuckled as he made his way over to the bed. “I can’t believe you still have one of these.” 

“It’s a good console dude, I stand by that.” Kyle jested. 

Stan settled into bed with him and Kyle turned on the TV to get the movie started. They bickered and bantered over what to watch, and in the end, as always, Kyle won and chose to instead watch the original Indiana Jones series on Hulu. Together they laughed, Kyle shed a tear or two, and they reminisced about a simpler time when all their time was spent on fun and far-too-elaborate games. 

As the hours went on, the gap between them closed and Kyle found comfort leaning on his best friend’s shoulder. Stan couldn’t get the thought out of his head of how this was too close a call. He couldn’t shake the feeling that their time was limited, it was all too real. The advice he heard from Kenny, DogPoo and Ike all echoed in his head, but he realized that this was the moment. They could lose each other, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing his chance.

“It has to be me…” He muttered to himself, remembering what DogPoo had told him in their first session. 

“What?” Kyle asked, his voice finally beginning to sound groggy. 

“We should be more than this.” Stan said, propping Kyle up straight and turning to face him. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I want to give this a shot, Kyle.” Stan said, gulping apprehensively. Kyle’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Stan, if this is because your dream-” He began, his voice wary. 

“This isn’t about the dream. I knew, Kyle, from the very beginning that till the very end it was going to be you and me. That I was going to spend the rest of my life with you, I’ve always been sure. I may not have realized how, or what the circumstances would be, but I do now. I want this. I want us. I want you, Kyle.” Stan poured his heart out, reaching forward to put a hand on Kyle’s cheek. Kyle was frozen, tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Stan… We’re best friends…” He muttered quietly, putting his hand over the one on his cheek.

“I know, don’t you see? That’s why-”

“I’m sorry, Stan.” Kyle interrupted, pulling Stan’s hand from his face.

“Kyle…” His voice broke. 

“The answer is no, Stan.” Kyle said, tucking his knees up into his chest.

“Please, why? Why can’t we just give this a try?” Stan pleaded, and Kyle couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes. 

“Because, Stan! Because you’re my best friend, because we’re partners! We won’t be able to work together-” 

“Don’t even, Kyle, I’m not stupid. Why are you so against the idea of us?” Stan urged.

“There’s too much at stake here! You’re my best friend in the whole world, and when this goes wrong, it can’t be a small thing, it will be really  _ really  _ bad. We won’t be able to recover from something like that!” The dam broke and tears began streaming down his cheeks. 

Stan was quiet, his eyes glued to the floor as he tried to process everything that he was hearing. Kyle couldn’t be pushed, and Stan had to accept that even if he could, it wouldn’t be right. 

“Please, don’t look so upset… Stan-”

“No, you’re right. I understand. But Kyle, just humor me for a second. What if it doesn’t go wrong?” Stan asked, his voice quivering as he tried to hold back tears of his own. 

“It will, Stan.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Because I can’t love you the way you deserve, the way you want to be loved.” Kyle began. “I’ll love you the way a hammer loves a nail, I will force you into a space and beat you down until we’re both just stuck and resentful and… I can’t do that to you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” 

Stan Marsh, the man with the jaw carved out of the side of a cliff, whose eyes were stolen from the sky reflected on ocean water, whose very soul was a hammer forged by the gods, and with it he chose not to destroy all that had hurt him but build a safe haven of truth and good for everyone and everything he loved to call home. He loved with everything he had, everything he was and he was just there, offering it all to him on a silver platter. Kyle was undeserving. 

Both were quiet for a little while, both trying to process everything that was happening. The dam broke, Stan spoke the possibilities into the universe and there was no going back. They were both in uncharted waters and their minds were whirring in confusion and fear of the unknown.

“Alright… I’ll accept that.” Stan finally broke the silence. “But Kyle, I can’t keep waiting for you… I want to be happy, and I need to go find whatever that is for myself.” 

“I know.” Kyle practically whimpered. “Can we still work together?” He asked quietly. 

“Yeah, we’ll be alright.” Stan looked up at him and gave him a sorrowful, yet reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay. I’m gonna go back to the couch. If you need anything, just call.”

“Stan… I understand if you can’t but… Can you please just stay until I fall asleep? I… I can’t be alone right now.” Kyle begged, knowing fully well that it wasn’t a fair request but Stan could not bring himself to decline.

“Of course. I’ll always be here.” Stan promised. 

That was that. Stan took that leap of faith, and now he was forced to face the challenge of settling for second-best. It would be a hard, long journey, but one that was necessary for him to make. In the meantime, he only had one option: throw himself into his work.

* * *

Craig’s first week in the police academy was a rigorous, physically exhausting nightmare. The fitness training was absolutely brutal, and whenever he wasn’t exhausting his muscles, he was studying overtime to make sure he was at the top of his class in the academic portion of the curriculum. Tweek came home from a shift at Harbucks and found Craig in his sweats, smelling like testosterone and peach shampoo with his nose in a book and mechanical pencil in hand. 

“Gah! Craig!” Despite it being a new normal for them, Tweek would still occasionally find himself startled by the sight, typically if he “sampled” more shots of espresso than necessary during the day. 

“Welcome home, honey.” Craig greeted in his typical monotone, not even moving to look up from his notebook. 

“Y-You’re still studying?” He asked as he hung up his coat. 

“Yes, I am.”

“How’s it going?” Tweek’s jaw was clenched, whether it was anxiety or frustration, Craig couldn’t tell. 

“Slow and monotonous. Gum?” Craig offered, looking up at him. 

“I don’t need any gum.” His tone was clearly bothered. “If it’s so slow and monotonous, why don’t you just drop out?” 

“Because I  _ like  _ slow and monotonous.” Craig popped a strip into his own mouth and closed his notebook. “Always have, always will.”

“Then why be a police officer and not a librarian?” Tweek was beginning to get accusatory.

“Tweek, we’ve talked about this. You said you were okay with me pursuing this.” Craig stated flatly. 

“I don’t have to like it,  _ Craig _ !” Tweek yelped. “You stink too, you need to go shower or something!” 

Craig sighed and slowly stood up. “Tweek, you’re lashing out right now and I did nothing to warrant this, what’s going on?” He asked, calm and collected.

“I’m not overreacting!!” He shrieked. “You smell bad, you’re up all night, and you’re already sounding like a fucking cop!” 

Craig put his hands on Tweek’s shoulders. “Honey. Remember your breathing exercises, I’ll do them with you.”

“I DON’T NEED ANY BREATHING EXERCISES!” Tweek shoved him away. Craig just looked back at him, confusion and anguish in his expression. 

“I have done nothing to you, Tweek.” Craig stated softly. “I’ve been trying to stay calm, I’ve respected your boundaries, and bent over backwards to try and make this work at your pace, and give you all the space and distance you need.” 

“Craig, I-” 

“I don’t deserve to be treated like this.” Craig continued. “You said you’d be supportive of me, and yet every single day, you come home from work and try to pick a fight with me and I can’t figure out why. Do you not want me here?”  
“I want you here, I just hate that you’re doing this! It’s too much pressure, man!” Tweek was nearly hyperventilating. “I worry all the time, it’s not getting better!” 

Craig was still, his face still blank and showing absolutely no hint of emotion. “Do you want me to quit?” 

Tweek couldn’t bring himself to answer.

“Tweek, if you want me to quit, if you want me to give up on this, then just say the word.” 

“Quit.” 

The tension that filled the room could be cut with a knife.

“Okay. But just so you know, I don’t have to like it either, Tweek.” Craig said and he began gathering his things. Tweek closed his eyes, waiting for the relief to wash over him, but instead he felt the guilt pooling in the pit of his stomach, making him feel worse than even the worry and anxiety he felt throughout the day. 

“Craig, wait.” 

“No, Tweek. It’s okay, I need to get some air.” Craig’s voice somehow managed to get even more monotone than before. Tweek found himself wishing that he would just yell or scream or fight, anything would be better than this. Craig lived in a perpetual state of being emotional distance, but never had Tweek seen him so dejected. It made his stomach churn. 

* * *

A cloud of sorrow loomed over South Park that night, but just as they all so hopelessly wondered where the sun had gone, it dawned on them, and just as promised, the light would return and a new day would come. By the time the sun would leave again, a killer would be caught, a dream would be realized, a bed would be shared, and Stan… Stan would be five years sober.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another note: I'm strongly considering changing the title of this fic, if I end up doing so, I'll make sure to include When the Chips are Down in the description so that it can still be found <3 Thank you for all your support and I hope you liked the work! Please feel free to let me know if there's anything or anyone you'd like to see more or less of <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking around! Comments are my life force so please let me know what you think!


End file.
